Swan Song
by nothyme
Summary: Bella is living an ordinary life as a shopgirl in New Orleans. A chance encounter with a black haired bar owner pulls her out of her stagnant life into one of fame, fortune, and possibly love. Mature scenes later.
1. Chapter 1

The smell of the French Quarter on a July morning is not one for the weak of stomach. It is a mixture of rotting garbage, last night's barely cleaned up vomit, and the sweet smell of frying beignets. I had lived here for three years and had become accustomed to the unique bouquet, if unable to enjoy the aroma. While it was still too early for the stench to be at its worst, it was also too early for the heat of the southern summer to burn it off completely. By noon the only remains of my morning commute would be in the recesses of dumpsters and in the more pleasing corners of Café Du Monde for tourists to consume.

I unlocked the door of the antique shop in which I worked. I didn't make much, but it was enough to pay the rent on my tiny apartment a couple of blocks over and cover my meals. I had spent much of my life making do and it was a hard habit to break, not that it was needed. A B.A. in English Lit from Dartmouth, a Master's in British Lit from Tulane, more student loans than I preferred to contemplate, a job making $15 an hour with no health insurance, and little more to show at 26. No boyfriend, few friends in the city I had called home for three years, a bad novel that hadn't made it past the first page on my Mac, not even a cat. If this was a movie, my life would be at a turning point; but this wasn't a movie and I continued on my day to day drudgery.

I had locked the door back behind me; the street Denali's was located on was safe, especially at 8:23 on a Tuesday, but I wasn't taking any chances. After taking the more expensive, but not most expensive, estate jewelry out of the safe and putting it in the glass display case in the window, I went to dust off the furniture, killing time until the 9:00 opening time. We had no appointments for the day; I wasn't expecting anything other than browsing tourists, maybe a small sale. It was going to be me and my book most likely all day. My boss, Irina, would take over for me around 4:00 and close the store.

By nine I had brewed coffee (regular, my Pacific Northwest taste buds just couldn't get used to chicory) and unlocked the door for any potential customers. We got a pretty interesting assortment usually, based solely on location. Across the street was a head shop, selling "herbal" pipes and paraphernalia, that had the grossest smelling incense burning whenever the weather was nice, and on either side was a wiccan voodoo shop (that did its biggest business around Halloween and with goth tourists) and a used book store (which took most of my paycheck). Most of the biggest sales were through appointment and were foreign business people, and honestly I don't know why Irina didn't just close the store and do business by appointment only, but then I would be out of a job and forced to face a reality I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with quite yet.

I was engrossed in the story of Sayuri and the Chairman (yes, I was just getting around to reading Memoirs of a Geisha, I spent years drowning in the classics, get over it!) when the little bell over the door rang, signaling my first, and possibly only, customer of the day.

"Good morning, welcome to Denali's Antiques, my name is Isabella. Is there anything I can help you with today?" It was my standard greeting. I was completely expecting to hear, No, thank you, I'm just looking, and I would go back to my book, so I was taken aback when the woman answered,

"Actually, yes, you can help me."

Oh, shit. I really hope she doesn't want something in particular. My knowledge of antiques was pretty sketchy. I mean, I could tell an armoire from an urn, but Empire from Louis XVI? Not so much.

"Uh, okay. What were you in the market for today, Ms…."

"Oh, no! Sorry, I didn't mean I wanted your help to shop!" the small woman exclaimed shaking her head so that her black hair, cut in an asymmetrical bob with bright blue streaks applied liberally throughout, flew about her face. "No, see, my husband and I just opened a new bar on the corner and I was wondering if I could leave some flyers here with you or maybe put one in your window for advertisement and in return we'd put some kind of marketing thingy up in our place, you know, a tit for tat kind of thing? Our grand opening is Friday, so if you don't have anything now, that would give some time for you to draw something up. The soft opening has been pretty successful and I doubt our night crowd would be into antiques, but our lunch crowd caters to the tourist set and I can tell that's probably who buys most of the smaller, less expensive merchandise in here."

I thought for a minute. This little woman looked no older than 22 and she had just informed me, in a blue haired tornado, that she was a part owner in a bar and could at least engineer the opening of said bar, she knew something about marketing, and could tell how this store was run by being in it for all of three minutes. Irina usually didn't go for this sort of thing, but at the same time she was all for reciprocity with local merchants.

"Well, Ms…"

"Oh, sorry again! Cu-Whitlock! I've been Alice Whitlock for three weeks and I keep forgetting. Please, call me Alice," she said laughing, holding up her hand so I could see a massive diamond solitaire and simple platinum band.

"Well, Alice, my boss usually doesn't want us to advertise for the other businesses—"

"Wouldn't have anything to do with the plants growing on the roof across the street that I'm pretty sure are weed would it?"

I giggled. I had no idea why no one else had noticed those yet—the police patrolled all the time.

"Not at all," I answered, rolling my eyes, "But like I was saying, I bet she wouldn't mind this, especially if it moves some merchandise. She just brought back a ton of stuff from a recent trip to Russia and she keeps complaining about the storage costs. Let's do it!"

Alice clapped her hands. Her fingernails were painted navy blue. "Awesome! Okay, so here's the flyer and here's the poster."

The flyer wasn't really a flyer; it was only a six by six piece of ivory paper with a thick black border, making it look almost like an invitation. The only thing written on it was: Midnight Sun, the Crescent City's Newest Place at Nighttime. Grand Opening. In the bottom right hand corner was that Friday's date and bar's address on the corner. The poster was similar only it had a black sun setting logo on the top right hand side.

"See, not too cheesy, so it won't look bad in the window. I think about these things, Isabella."

"Bella," I responded automatically, still looking at the poster.

"Huh?"

"Oh, well, my real name is Isabella, but I just got by Bella usually. I like to tell customers Isabella so that if someone walks up to me and I'm out somewhere and I get called Isabella…"

"You know if you met them at work or and if it's Bella, somewhere else. Smart. Okay, well, Bella, it was nice to meet you, and I hope to see you there Friday. Or, hell, if you're not doing anything tonight, swing by after work. We've been doing pretty steady business, but as you know, it is a Tuesday in July in New Orleans. We do have some great food too—we have this WONDERFUL chef, Antoine, I swear I'm going to gain 10 lbs. by next week if I keep eating his food. How does one man make red beans and rice taste like magic?"

I laughed, "When I find out, I'll let you know. It's a mystery I still haven't figured out and I've been here going on three years. Sure, I think I might stop by. I'll probably get off around 4, you be there then?"

"Honey, we have a grand opening in three days; I'll probably be sleeping at that bar until then!" Alice said, waved and then was gone as quickly as she arrived.

And my day had altered all before ten o'clock.

***

Irina had been late arriving, cursing in Russian, muttering some explanation pertaining to her greyhounds and a squirrel. I didn't listen too closely, afraid I would start laughing due to my tendency to link my boss and Rocky and Bullwinkle. Any stories involving Irina using the words "moose" or "squirrel" were enough to push my snorting while laughing tendency into fruition.

Irina had no problem with my executive decision in displaying Midnight Sun's flyer's or poster; the restraint shown in the design apparently worked in its favor.

"It is good to be having some business in the neighborhood that is not stupid magic shop or place for idiots to be," Irina said, unwrapping her silk scarf and hanging it on the art deco rack behind the counter. The woman wore a scarf no matter the weather. I blamed Russia. "Although we need another bar like, what is that saying I like, another hole in the head. But if this bar is not one simply for stupid children who have no business in bars but one in which to go and be, that would be nice." I didn't understand Irina sometimes. Just go and be? Again, I blamed Russia.

"Okay, Irina, well, I'll see you tomorrow then," I said, gathering my book and water bottle while picking up my purse from it's place under the counter.

"One thing. I have a private appointment for tomorrow to look at chairs here at nine. Would you mind taking shift from noon until closing?"

Ugh. I hated closing, mainly because I hated walking home at night alone. Like I said, where we were located wasn't dangerous, it was just the thought of being alone—ask any single woman living alone and I'm sure she'll agree. But with Midnight Sun on the corner the foot traffic was sure to be way up and if I was really creeped out I might be able to grab a cab.

"Sure Irina, no problem. Same pay raise from 4 on?"

"Egh, yes, you little capitalist, $20 an hour plus commission. I don't know why I keep you on, you are so expensive," Irina said, smiling as I waved on my way out the door. She kept me on because my life was so boring that she could do things like this at the least minute and I was accommodating. Most workers would need at least a couple of days notice. Me, I needed five bucks more an hour and at least three hours.

I made my way down the street to Midnight Sun, not hurrying since the evening was still so hot and humid it felt like I needed a knife to make it through the air. By the time I walked through the door of the bar I was, once again, thanking whomever it was that invented the air conditioner.

"Bella!" I heard my named called from the far end of the bar and when I looked towards the greeting I saw tiny Alice sitting on the bar with her arms around a tall blonde man who had his longish wavy hair pulled back into a short ponytail.

"Hi, Alice. Don't worry, I won't tell your husband about your man candy on the side," I stage whispered to her, eyeing the guy she was wrapped around like a snake. Alice giggled, lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Silly Bella, this IS my husband. Jasper, this is the girl I was telling you about, at the antiques store. Jasper Whitlock, love of my life, love-_er _of my life, this is Isabella, better known as Bella,…well, I don't know her last name, but I'm sure it's _won_derful!" Alice said.

"Swan, Bella Swan," I said, smiling and holding out my hand to Alice's husband. With difficulty he extricated one of his from Alice's grip and grabbed hold of the one I offered and, I shit you not, kissed my knuckles.

"Well, Miss Bella Swan, it is a pleasure to meet the woman my woman has been jabbering about," Jasper drawled with an accent I knew wasn't New Orleans, or even Louisiana, with a sparkle in his eye that betrayed the mischief he was making.

"I don't jabber, I chirp," Alice said, poking him sharply in the ribs, and when Jasper bent to protect himself, she kissed him on the tip of the nose. She hopped down from the bar to behind it and slapped Jasper on the ass, "Go take care of those ladies, Babe, while Bella and I chat. They look like they have too much money on them," Alice told Jasper smoothly pointing him in the direction of a table full of thirty somethings who appeared to be on a girls' night out. Jasper gave her a quick peck on the lips and sauntered over to the table where the women wasted no time checking him out and flirting; Jasper gave as good as he got and looking like he did sure didn't hurt.

"He's pretty isn't he?" Alice asked, beginning to make what looked like an appletini.

"Who?" I asked, mesmerized by the grace with which she worked and how quickly everything went together. Now sooner had she begun was she finished with the appletini and moved on to a hurricane.

"Jasper. Don't worry, I'm not offended if you look; I'm flattered. I know he's sex on a stick, why do you think I married him?" Now she was on a dirty martini while simultaneously drawing an Abita beer.

"Well, I ain't gonna lie, he's not hard on the eyes. And that accent—it's not New Orleans," I said, feeling more comfortable with this woman than I had with some people I had known for years.

"No, Jasper's from Denison, Texas, it's just outside Dallas. That Texas thing makes women wild—it sure didn't hurt me any," Alice said, laughing, "He gets big tips when he turns on the charm."

"You from Texas too?"

"No, I grew up all over."

"Army brat?"

"You could say that," Alice said smiling, loading up a tray. Jasper came back to the bar, picked up the tray, and took it over to the table of ladies, all without saying a word to Alice.

"How did you do that?" I asked, my jaw hanging open stupidly. Jasper hadn't told Alice what the women had ordered and she had started making the drinks before the women began ordering. Could she see the future or something?

"What? Tell what they were going to order? Easy. See, that one, with the low cut top, she's not wearing a ring and she's got a confident stance about herself—dirty martini, dry. The one with the pink halter top, she's got a new wedding ring, she's fiddling with it, she's not used to it. Wants something fun, something that will remind her of her recent island honeymoon—see the tan lines from her bathing suit? Hurricane. The Abita goes to the one in jeans and the nice top—she knows who she is and isn't trying to be something she isn't so she'll order a beer. The appletini goes to the scared little rabbit with too much makeup and the skirt she keeps tugging on—I bet it's her first time out after a breakup or divorce and she's nervous. I get it right about 80% of the time and the other 20% it gets blamed on a mix-up and they usually just drink it and realize that's what they wanted in the first place." Amazing. This woman was amazing. She couldn't be over five feet tall and one hundred pounds dripping wet yet she had more chutzpah in her navy blue pinkie finger nail than I did in my whole body. I suddenly had a drink in front of me.

"Rum and coke?"

"Damn. How about a whisky sour?" Alice asked.

"It's probably what I wanted anyway, right?"

***

Two whisky sours later, business was picking up and Alice was busy. I didn't want to be That Girl sitting alone at the bar, so I decided to be That Girl sitting alone at the black baby grand piano that was sitting in the corner. It wasn't new; it was scarred and had wax from melted candles on it, but it was beautiful. I sat down and began picking out the melody of a few songs. I didn't play much anymore, not since I had left school and my friend Angela with the slightly out of tune upright that came with her rental house moved back to Baltimore, but I had always loved it. I played by ear—I could hear a song once, sit at the instrument, and with a little work could usually play it without too much effort.

"Hey, Bella! You play?" Jasper called, swinging around between his tables.

"A little. You mind?"

"Not at all! It was here when we bought the place and Alice said we couldn't get rid of it. If you wanted to sing or something I'm sure there's a mic somewhere—"

"No! No singing for me thanks! I'll just play over here a little," I never sang in public, not even at Dartmouth when I went out with my wild roommate Jessica to penny pitcher karaoke night. Not even the weekend we went to her brother Paul's fraternity party weekend where all the houses had a different theme and somehow we ended up swimming in the "pool" at one house that was really just a hole dug in the ground, fortified with sandbags, filled with a water hose, and dyed blue with 1,000 flushes. Sadly, this is a true story in the life of Isabella Swan.

I started by just playing a song I liked, A Woman's Worth, by Alicia Keys, and I almost lost my train of thought when Jasper's Ladies (as I had begun to call them) started clapping.

"I love this song!" Dirty Martini exclaimed.

Suddenly I heard a voice singing in clear soprano over the din of the crowd.

"_You could buy me diamonds  
You could buy me pearls  
Take me on a cruise around the world  
Baby, you know I'm worth it,"_

"It's so true too," Hurricane said, with Abita nodding along, patting Appletini on the back soothingly.

I saw Alice carrying a tray high over her head with another whisky sour and an empty glass bowl, weaving through the tables and standing patrons; it was her voice that was following my piano playing, taking over the lyrics when I was too chicken to actually do it. She smiled, put the bowl on top of the piano with a sign labeled "Tips," and put my drink next to it. Then she left with a wave, continuing with the song as she efficiently tended bar, waited tables, and pulled patrons in from the street. This woman could do anything and I couldn't even sing a fucking song in a bar.

I made up my mind. When Alice and I finished with Alicia and everyone was busy clapping (clapping, really?) I downed my drink in one pull, took a deep breath, and—

"Oh, sorry, Jasper told me to bring this out. Said Alice said you would want it," one of the bus boys was holding a lone stand up mic that he had adjusted right into my nose.

"Of course she did. Sure, right, whatever." Never sang in public and now I was going to do it with a mic taking my voice into the French Quarter for everyone to hear? Good choice Bella. During what part of your day did you decide that abject humiliation was on the menu?

"I'm not really sure how this thing is supposed to work…plug it in and…hmmm…sure, why not? There you go," the bus boy had done whatever technical stuff his limited skills allowed him (and to be honest my skills were more limited than his) and hit the on button. It didn't screech, didn't squeal, didn't do anything. Could it be broken? Could my luck be beginning to change?

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears!" Where the hell had Alice come from? "Tonight Midnight Sun has a special treat for you. This is Bella Swan on the piano, playing whatever she feels like, and if you are good little boys and girls, she might just play something for you! Put your hands together folks, Bella!" Oh, no, now they knew my name. Now they knew I had a name. Now I wasn't just some face in the crowd. I was a face behind the piano, playing music for the crowd. But playing whatever I wanted to play.

After her little speech, Alice had adjusted the mic back to my level, and not into my nose. Well, it was now or never. I could continue being Bella Swan reading her book in a dusty antique shop by day, living in her tiny purple apartment by night watching reruns of CSI, or I could be book Bella by day and piano playing Bella by night. What did I want to do?

"Good evening everyone. I think pretty much everyone will recognize this next song," I started playing the opening notes and closing the door on my panic I opened my mouth to sing.

"_I've been roaming around, I was looking down at all I see_

_Painting faces, bulding places I can't reach_

_You know that I could use somebody…_

_You know that I could use somebody…"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I actually had some people put this on alert and that really made my day, you have no idea. This chapter is a little shorter than the first, but I tried to make it move faster and it came to a natural break. I hope my few readers are liking what I've written so far; I do have a general direction that I'm moving in so fear not. I'm very green with this writing, I'm sure it's obvious, so please be nice. I guess I should disclaim; I disclaim. There.**

BPOV

The sun filtered through my curtains, casting a purple hue over the room. It wasn't much, this tiny apartment that had been my home since I left the cold of the Northeast and the wet of the Northwest behind. Real estate in the French Quarter was not the most affordable, but this 2nd floor set of rooms with a balcony/fire escape had a bit of a tragic bent that left it unrentable to all but the most desperate or uncaring.

Apparently it had been home to a somewhat up and coming poet, Marcus Jane, and his gay partner before Katrina hit. They had come home from Jane's book launch and surprised a burglar who had proceeded to beat both men to death in the living room. The tragic part was that their bodies were discovered clutching each other, trying to protect the other from the blows. It had been vacant for two years before the hurricane and when the city was rebuilding the rent went up pretty considerably, but for some reason it couldn't keep a tenant and had been empty for six months by the time I moved in. The building had been around for at least a hundred years and I enjoyed my little slice of history, even if it had a seedy underbelly.

I opened one eye and fuzzily saw the pile of ones on my dinged up side table Irina had given me—she said it could have been a wonderful sale, something about French nouveau, but she had spilled and entire bottle of red nail polish all over the top. I thought it added character, and as badly as I saw without my glasses I had a habit of running into and tripping over things, so it had endured a few more accidents while in my possession.

It currently supported my eyeglasses (20/200 without them or my contacts, thank you, thank you very much) and very ugly brass lamp that I had "salvaged" from the street that had been made up with a purple lamp shade, and the aforementioned pile of money. I had gotten eighty dollars in tips the night before and Alice had insisted I keep all of it, not even letting me pay for my drinks.

"You were the one who wandered over to the piano! That's your money," she had exclaimed, not looking any worse for the wear at the 3 am last call even though I thought I was about to fall asleep standing up.

"But it's your place and your piano and your mic—"

"And your talent and your voice! Honey, we made more money tonight than we have since we unofficially opened the doors last Monday. The people in the streets heard your singing and came in to check it out. Trust me, we more than made our cut. You take that and buy yourself something pretty, or get a nice mani/pedi or something. And, excuse me Missy, but where the hell did you get that voice? You sounded kind of like a better Fiona Apple or a more bluesy Sara Bareilles or a non-stoned Amy Winehouse," Alice continued sidestepping Jasper, who was counting the money in the register.

"Um, well, I just kind of always liked singing along to the radio. I never really sang before in public."

"Shut up! Seriously? Well, my new best friend, you have a new night time thing going here because I am not letting up with this. You are now officially a singer at Midnight Sun and we are going to—"

"Uh, Alice, love, I think you need to get your new best friend home before she collapses from exhaustion in the middle of my bar. Not everyone has your ability to be highly functioning on four hours of sleep," Jasper interrupted, taking notice of my yawning and trouble standing up.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just that I get so wrapped up sometimes! Okay, so Bella, here we go, out the door, where do you live now?"

Alice had walked me home, assured me of her own safety, and left me to fall immediately into my bed and into a stone cold sleep, leaving my money on the nightstand.

_Rattle, rattle, rattle, huch_

"Shit!" I exclaimed out loud. The window A/C unit in my bedroom had been threatening to expire for quite some time and it sounded as if it had truly given up the ghost. Good thing I had 80 bucks to blow.

***

"Okay, Dollface, you are officially part of our opening night line up!" Alice squealing was akin to the sound of a ukulele. I had stopped by after closing up the shop to drop off some of Irina's business cards.

"What's that now?" I asked, taking a sip of the beer Jasper passed me that was garnished with the orange slice.

"Grand opening! We have a few acts lined up, but one bailed at the last minute—my shiftless brother and his 'artistic temperament,'" Alice made the air quotes while rolling her eyes, "I swear that if I didn't love him, I would hate his guts."

"Keep making sense babe," Jasper drawled, grinning at me while taking a couple of dishes from the kitchen area to a table near the street side French doors. It was a slow night, only a couple of people at the bar watching TV and three tables with people having dinner. Midnight Sun was definitely more restaurant than bar tonight.

"Alice, I really don't think you want someone like me singing at your grand opening. I mean, I play covers and you want someone that is a professional musician." What she didn't want was me making an ass out of myself in front of her and Jasper's friends and family who I was sure were coming in town for the opening.

"Professional my size zero ass! You sounded better than some people I've heard call themselves 'artists' and trust me, I know the music business. You just need some confidence, Baby Girl. What's your work schedule like the rest of the week?"

"Irina's closing the store. She said she wanted to take inventory and rotate out some stock and I'm not allowed to help. 'You break more than you are worth' is her favorite phrase," I said, vaguely afraid this was yet another attempt at making me into a girl when I preferred being Bella.

"Alright, well, I'm taking you shopping for something to wear to the opening, because, Sweetie, that pair of jeans does nothing for your rather nice behind and the ladies up front deserve better in life than that silly excuse for a tank top. Jasper am I right?" Alice called across the bar.

"You always are, love."

***

Okay, so Alice was right. My old pair of jeans didn't do nearly as much for the ol' caboose that this new pair did—I caught quite a few look backs in window reflections. She was also right about the shirt. A new midnight blue tank with a low v-neck did wonders in revealing enough of the twins while also concealing enough of their plentiful charms. She planned to drape me in long gold chains, put gold rings on every finger ("They'll look so hot when you're playing!"), and put me in a pair of gold stilettos that I promised her make me the first fatality for Midnight Sun. The biggest change though, was the hair.

"No, Alice, absolutely not."

"But think how cool it will look. You'll be totally sexy and punk."

"No, you would be totally sexy and punk. I'll be that girl who mistakenly got chunks of her hair dyed purple."

"Not purple, more of a maroon. It's really just a very deep red. Like you got red highlights."

"Except they wouldn't be _red_, they would be maroon, and they wouldn't be _highlights_, they would be huge streaks of maroon running through my hair. Streaks that wouldn't wash out!"

But here I was, sitting in Alice and Jasper's well appointed apartment over Midnight Sun, with Alice putting the finishing touches on my makeup. And I had purple streaks in my long brown hair. Sorry, _maroon_.

"Perfect! Oh, I'm so glad I finished this in time, I wanted you to be ready before my parents got here. They'll love you," Alice said, taking a glance at her finished masterpiece before disappearing behind the partition that separated the area the signified the master bedroom. It was really the first time I had been to their place, so I took my time to be nosy while Alice finished getting dressed. Jasper has already gone downstairs to get things ready for the opening.

Hmmm. Either Alice or Jasper one was a huge music fan—there were framed records all over one of the walls. The Beatles' _White Album_, The Rolling Stones' _Sticky Fingers_, and The Who's _The Kids Are Alright_ to name just a few. For some reason, Cullen's Army seemed to be a huge interest—there were posters, albums, t-shirts, and even tickets, which seemed strange because it was blues rock band that was big in the mid to late '70s, pre-dating both of the condo's occupants by a few years at least.

A bass sat in the corner and a guitar signed by Carlisle Cullen, lead guitar and founder of Cullen's Army, hung on the wall above…wait a second…that wonderfully good looking blonde man holding a tiny little girl with black pigtails looked an awful lot like Carlisle Cullen.

Wedding pictures, wedding pictures…Alice would have her father walk her down the aisle right? Then I remembered, "Jasper and I didn't want all the hoopla of a big wedding so we just went to Jamaica. It was really about the joining of the two of us, ya know? Who cares about who else was there?" Damn.

I started looking at other stuff around the apartment. A picture of an Alice with longer hair that was platinum blonde—wow, _not_ a good look for her—with a woman, her mother? Had to be. And that woman was Esme Cullen. Carlisle Cullen's wife, vocals and occasional piano player. Seriously? This can't be, this doesn't happen. I mean, this band was in the Rock 'N Roll Hall of Fame. It was one of those bands that had it's own Behind the Music because it had done some wild and crazy living until its members settled down and had families. Now I was friends with a rock princess who was encouraging me to sing? Me, plain Jane, Bella Swan with my degrees in English and my Converse that Jessica's dog had chewed the heels on but I still liked anyway?

"Alice? What was your maiden name again?" Why did my voice sound so unnaturally high?

Alice came out from behind the partition wearing a pair of jeans I'm pretty sure were just latex body paint, a purple t-shirt with the midnight sun logo on it, and perfect makeup.

"Cullen, why?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about not updating, but I got a new job and it's been really wild. Plus, it didn't really seem like anyone was interested in this story and I didn't want to waste time writing it if no one was reading it. However, the story just kept rattling around in the old noggin, so here it is, even if no one reads it. Please review if you do, just so I know you're there. Thanks!**

At just that moment the scarred oak front door creaked open revealing a woman with long caramel brown hair, streaked with silver, in a riot of waves falling down her back. She was wearing a brown maxi dress and so much turquoise jewelry I would have sworn we were in Arizona or New Mexico.

"Mummy!" Alice shrieked and ran towards this ethereal looking mother earth figure.

"Mary Alice! Oh, I've missed you!" Both women embraced fiercely; the love between the two was almost palpable.

During the reunion I took a few seconds to process the information my overworked brain had just received. My new friend, Alice, was actually Mary Alice Whitlock, nee Cullen, who had grown up with the likes of Lizzy Jagger and Theodora Richards. Her parents were founding members of one of the biggest rock groups of all time. She owns a bar, that I happen to sing in, that I will be singing in tonight, in front of said parents. I think I'm going to throw up.

"Mum, this is my friend Bella, Bella, my mother Esme. Remember, Mum, I told you about her?"

"Of course, Bella Swan, the singer/shopgirl. You know, I was a shopgirl too."

"Mum, you worked at Papa Tom's candy store until Grammy said you couldn't anymore because you gave all the cute boys free stuff. Bella sells antiques from, like, the 17th century." Wow, Alice actually new her stuff.

"Well, it was the free stuff that attracted your father. Lonely musician living above a candy shop in New York, blond hair all in his eyes, tight jeans, plus the cutest British accent," Esme gave me a mischevious look that said all it needed to say and more.

"Did I hear something about a British accent? I do believe I'm the only one here with one of those," and with that Carlisle Cullen, Rock God, walked into the very room I was standing in.

See, the thing about Carlisle Cullen is this: even at 52 he was still super sexy. Golden hair, toffee colored eyes, and a body that could still rival a man 25 years younger than him. Plus, there was the sexy British accent…

"Darling, where is that husband of yours?" Esme asked, spiking Alice's hair in a few places.

"Downstairs; Rosalie is coming with her husband tonight so he's nervous about things looking nice. Dad, this is my friend Bella," Alice said, gesturing to me and swatting her mother away.

"Rosalie? Who's Rosalie?" I blurted. This was just too much for my tiny, non-famous brain to take.

"Oh, sorry Bella. Rosalie is Jasper's older sister. Surely you've heard of her," Alice said, frowning at me.

"Rosalie Whitlock? Should I have?"

"Rosalie _Hale_. She uses her middle name professionally."

Rosalie Hale. Yeah, I'd heard of her. Minus possibly a tiny band of Native Americans in a jungle in Brazil without methods of modern communication, the entire world knew who Rosalie Hale was. Not only had she graced the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit a record tying five times, but she was one the face, or should I say body, of Victoria's Secret.

Oh, and her husband? Yeah, that's right, Alice said he was coming too. If I wasn't already completely overwhelmed by the fame game that was being played inside my, until now, boring universe, Emmett McCarty was an action star the likes Hollywood hadn't seen since the days of _Die Hard_ Bruce Willis and pre-_Eyes Wide Shut_ Tom Cruise. Even I had seen his movies, and that was saying something.

"Um, Alice? I don't think I can do this tonight," I squeaked.

"Bella, I told you, the gold shoes just _make_ the outfit. You'll be sitting down all night anyway. Deal."

"Sweetheart, I don't think she's referring to her footwear," Carlisle said smirking.

"The hair dye doesn't wash out. We discussed this!" Alice was getting more exasperated.

"No Alice! I can't play my stupid song covers in front of your parents, who actually know something about music, in front of Rosalie Hale, possibly the most beautiful woman in the world, and Emmett McCarty, someone who snaps his fingers and can get anything he wants! I have two degrees in English Literature! I'm not a musician!" There. I felt marginally better after my outburst. That is until Alice started laughing.

"Honey, you really crack me up! Okay, one: my dear ol' Dad here? He can't read music—in fact he can barely read," Alice said, grabbing her father by the shoulders.

"Now, that's not fair! I can read, I just don't understand this ridiculous language you use when you text. The letter U is no substitute for the word You," Carlisle said, pouting a bit. I got that what Alice said was probably more true than he would admit.

"And my Mummy? She is about as musical as those gorgeous stilettos you're wearing. The only reason she was in the band was because Dad had a crush on her and wanted an excuse to take her touring with him," Alice continued, kissing her mother on the cheek.

"It's actually true Bella. I can sing harmony because Carlisle taught me and the lighting director actually lights up the keys for me to play during the songs. Alice, I didn't even tell Behind the Music that. You are a naughty little monkey!" Esme said good naturedly.

"Plus, Rosalie and Emmett, Bella? Rose _is_ a bit standoffish at first, but you can't blame her with all the Yes Men surronding her in her industry and Emmett is seriously one of the nicest most laid back guys you will ever meet. You'll do great. Just pretend it's like any other night!" And with that, Alice pranced off down the stairs to the bar, dragging her parents behind her, talking a mile a minute about what she and Jasper had done to the space.

Great? Yeah, right.

The bar was packed. It's like the whole world figured out who Alice was and that Jasper was related to Rosalie Hale and they all decided to come to the opening that night. My hand were shaking so much I could hear the faint clinks as my rings knocked against one another.

"You ready Bella?" Jasper gave me a reassuring smile and I suddenly felt calm. I could do this. I glanced behind me at the crowd. I couldn't do this.

"Sure," I said, but I could feel how shakey my smile was. Jasper just chuckled and led me through the crowd to the piano.

"Good evenin' everyone. I am Jasper Whitlock, owner of this fine establishment," at this Jasper had to stop due to the applause, catcalls, and one very loud wolf whistle which I was such came from Alice, "Okay, okay, settle down. Right now we have the very talented Isabella Swan, or Bella as we like to call her here in the Big Easy, ready to entertain y'all. If you behave, she might even sing something you like. Without further ado," Jasper finished with a laugh and began clapping, leading the crowd.

Oh, shit. Here we go. I sat down on the bench, adjusted the mic, and realized that with all the lights Alice had installed for the performance tonight, I couldn't really see much of the crowd. I could make out the outlines of people, sometimes some hair here and there, but no faces, thank God! I really could do this.

"Well, thank you Jasper, for that fine introduction. Um, okay, well, good evening everyone, welcome to Midnight Sun," cheers, applause, etc., "Tonight I'm just going to be putting my own spin on some songs that everyone probably already knows. Hope you all have a great time," more cheers, applause, and Alice's whistle.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise…_


	4. Chapter 4

**I got a favorite add!!!! Thank you Devil's-Avenging-Angles!!!! At least someone is reading my story, haha.**

**I wanted to do an EPOV, so here it is, let me know if we likey or not.**

**Also, I haven't been doing the disclaimer thingy, because I am obviously NOT SM and I obviously DO NOT own these characters--I would think people reading this would know that, but I have added it here, just because, you know?**

**Please review, give some feedback, even if it's just on a 1 out of 10 scale. I apologize for grammer or spelling mistakes.**

EPOV

New Orleans, Louisiana. It never failed to make me smile that my twin decided to open a bar in this town. The heavy air and slower way of doing things fit right in with her other half, Jasper, while the city's eclectic atmosphere with its dash of mystery fit Alice to a T.

I drove through the traffic on the highway in my less-than-immaculate condition 1967 Aston Martin Vantage Volante, cursing the lack of air conditioning and the rain out of Memphis that made me decide to put the top up. I had been recording in Nashville and rather than fly I wanted a little time on the open road in my baby to clear my mind—now I was seriously considering setting the damn thing on fire if I ever made it to Alice's place.

I had found Victoria, as I called her, just sitting in a shed behind a bar I played in Austin, Texas. When I questioned the bar owner he informed me that the previous owner had left it when he and the missus took off for Cozumel, ready to pander to more college kids only with prettier scenery and lower taxes. Vicky wasn't in the best shape; her red paint was faded, the cream leather seats needed replacing, and I'd had to pay for some extensive repairs to the wiring from some chipmunks that didn't know a classic car from a peanut. I was currently wishing I had shelled out the money for the seats too because my ass and back were killing me.

I pulled into the French Quarter as the sun disappeared under the horizon made by the Mississippi River. The tiny one-way streets reminded me of my dad's version of London. I finally found Jasper and Alice's place, a brand new bar that looked like it had been there for a while nestled amongst small specialty shops and what looked like a place to buy pretty good pot. After parking Vicky in one of the spots in the back alley I snuck through the door to the kitchen.

"Pardon moi? And who would you be?" I was immediately confronted by a short, skinny brown man with dreadlocks so long I was sure he could sit on them.

"Uh, I'm Edward. Alice's brother?" Why did I phrase that in the form of a question? I easily had sixty pounds on the guy and about a foot in height; he was only armed with a wooden spoon.

"Ah, yes, le jumeau. Well, I am Antoine, the chef here. Go through that door and you will find Miss Fey."

"Miss Fey?"

"Fey, as in sorcière or lutin."

"I'm sorry--I don't speak French."

With that Antoine just waved me away with his spoon and began muttering into whatever he had in the large silver pot.

I took the hall that strange little guy directed me to and could hear the crowd noise. My palms began to sweat. It never failed--no matter how long I had been performing or how many people I had been in front of whenever I heard that din that an assembled body makes my heart began to beat faster and my hands grew as sweaty as a cold beer left out in the sun too long.

"Edward! Over here!" I heard the unmistakable bellow of Emmett McCarty, my brother-in-law's brother-in-law; I wonder if that makes us brother-in-laws twice removed?

I looked over to where I heard Emmett's voice filter from and saw a large table partially sheltered by potted ferns--Alice's attempt at giving my family some privacy while not alienating her patrons. Funny thing was, no one was bothering my parents or Emmett and Rosalie. That's the beauty of New Orleans; the people recognize you, smile, might ask for an autograph, but usually if you're in the company of your family they are more likely to leave you alone than anything. I once saw a woman yell at a paparazzo for taking pictures of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie when they were out with their kids in the city. Southern values are alive and well in the Big Easy, soaked as they are with bourbon and jazz.

"Edward! Alice said she wasn't sure if you were going to make it down," my mother exclaimed while kissing me on the cheek. I saw the flash of a camera somewhere in the distance.

"Don't worry. Felix has most of the good shots blocked and the not so great ones are obscured by Chelsea's hat," Rosalie said, smiling. I looked over her shoulder and saw possibly the largest man I had ever seen sitting in the French double doors. Sure enough the best shots that could be taken of the Cullen table were completely ruined by the bulk of flesh positioned precariously on one of Alice's metal chairs. The hat to which Rose had been referring was impossible to miss. It was a wide brimmed leopard print with pink feathers everywhere--I had seen it when I walked in. It was also taking up a majority of the space of another set of French doors that had less valuable lines of sight.

"Nice thinking Rose."

"It was actually Alice's idea. She found the hat in a costume shop a few days ago and Chelsea is my assistant. Felix is Emmett's trainer for his next movie and he had never been to New Orleans before. Never!"

"How many drinks has Rose had?" I whispered to Emmett. Rose was not this naturally bubbly, especially to me, who she didn't really like that much.

"Yeah, I think it's time for her to slow down," Emmett said, signaling to Jasper, who laughed and handed the red mixed drink he had just prepared to a dark haired woman leaning over the bar.

"How is the session with the new producer going, Edward?" My dad asked, drinking his beer.

"It's going," I said darkly.

"That doesn't sound very promising," my mother said.

"I don't know. He just doesn't seem to get my sound or something. I'm thinking about taking the digitals and just cutting out for someone else."

"Edward, this is the fifth producer you've walked out on," Carlisle said, frowning.

"But it's my music and my sound. I don't want it to be compromised just because some guy is lazy and doesn't feel like really taking the time to get me."

"Where have I heard this before?" Esme practically sang, looking meaningfully at my father.

"Well, yes, I know, I have had creative issues before, but Edward hasn't even made a name for himself in the industry and he's already throwing diva fits."

"Diva fits? That must mean my brother is ready to fire another producer." I stood up, picked up my tiny sister, and hugged her as tightly as she hugged me.

"God, Alice, I've missed you!"

"Likewise, little brother."

"I'm two minutes younger than you!"

"Still, younger. Too bad you missed the tropical wedding. It was brilliant!"

"I thought everyone missed the tropical wedding?"

"Details, details. Anyway, we have a little treat for everyone tonight. Jasper's about to introduce my new discovery," Alice said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"New discovery? What's this about now?" Emmett asked, drinking deeply from his gin and tonic.

"Just a someone I met in the quarter who is amazing! You'll see. And pay attention brother dear, you might find some inspiration." And with that Alice wove her way through the crowd back to her bar. Fey indeed.

"What was that all about?" I asked my parents.

"We met her this afternoon. Beautiful girl, terribly unsure of herself. If her talent is as plentiful as her, ahem, assets, she'll be fantastic," Carlisle said, winking at Emmett and me.

"Carlisle!" Rosalie exclaimed.

"Looks like Rose isn't the only one who needs to be cut off," Esme whispered into my ear, taking my father's beer and replacing it with a glass of water.

"...hope you have a great time."

I looked over to the corner where the old ass piano had been sitting innocuously enough before. Now before it sat the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was wearing a dark blue top that made her skin look like she was glowing and jeans that I could tell from here made her ass look amazing. The she opened her mouth and sang.

Holy shit. I had never before gotten aroused simply by the sound of someone's voice but now, I was hard.

"Like what you hear?" Jasper drawled, coming up behind me carrying a tray of drinks and plopping whisky on the rocks in front of me.

"Uh, yeah. Why?" I asked. Jasper had always been creepily observant. Okay, well it never really creeped me out until now when my dick was hard in his bar due to the hot piece that was currently playing in the front.

"She plays by ear. Don't know if she's written anything. Has a Master's in British Lit from Tulane but works for shit pay at this antique store down the street. Back-story is a bit murky but, as my Granny would say, she's good people." And with that Jasper and his cowboy boots sauntered off to take more money from his customers.

"Woowhoooooooooooo!!!"

"Rose, seriously, people are staring and not for the usual reasons," Emmett whispered.

"Well, thank you to my fan in the back. I do try. Okay, so I'm gonna switch gears a little, guys, hang on!"

Her smile. I had to see it again. Those lips belonged....okay Edward, not something to be thinking while sitting with your family in your sister's bar.

_Do you wanna be a polyester bride? _

_Or do you want to hang your head and die? _

_Do you want to find alligator cowboy boots they just put on sale? _

_Do you want to flap your wings and fly away from here?_

Vintage Liz Phair? Seriously?

I sat with my dick uncomfortably jammed up against my zipper through the rest of her set, which she apparently just made up as she went. After Liz came, among others, _Peaches_, by The Presidents of the United States of America, _Party in the USA_ by Miley Cyrus, and _Blister in the Sun_ by the Violent Femmes. She finished with one of the most heartbreaking versions of _Wild Horses_ I've ever heard, and I've heard it performed live by the originators. After everyone exploded with cheers, they demanded more.

"Sorry guys, but some people actually work for a living. I've gotta be able to speak tomorrow," she said apologetically. Alice escorted her through the crowd, who all seemed friendly enough, but I couldn't help but feel anxious until she was safely out of its clutches. I knew how fast a seemingly friendly group could turn into an angry mob.

"Isabella, you did wonderfully," my dad said, giving her a hug. I noticed Esme watching his hands. How long had they been here drinking?

"Thanks, but please call me Bella," she said, pushing her golden ring bedecked hands through her hair and blushing. I bet that color was also the color of her—

"And this is my son, Edward."

"Hi." A slight smile. Chocolate brown eyes framed by long dark eyelashes.

"Hello. Don't I know you from somewhere?" How on Earth would she know me?

"Probably not. Maybe I just look like someone famous."

"No, I swear I've met you somewhere before," plump lips pursed and a line appeared between her eyebrows, "Did you go to college?"

"Uh, I attended Dartmouth for, like, a semester."

"That's where I did my undergraduate work; 2002-2006." The line disappeared and her eyes crinkled with pleasure.

"Really? I was there for fall of '02. Wow, our paths must have crossed somehow." I seriously doubted it. I would remember this girl. Or at least her boobs.

"Edward, stop monopolizing Bella! I have to say, little girl, you've got talent," Emmett chimed in, gesturing to a seat.

"Please, don't tease a girl. Seriously, I just like to play around. I've never really done anything like this before," Bella said, sitting down and taking a sip from her whisky sour.

"Well you should! I know so many models who think they can sing and they don't have half the talent you have," Rose said emphatically. Bella's blush turned even redder and spread to her chest.

"I'm mostly trying to help Alice out until she gets some acts here. I know how it is trying to makes ends meet."

"You know, Edward is a bit of a musician himself," Esme decided she needed to add. I gave her the "knock it off" look but she studiously ignored me.

"Really? What do you play?"

"Pretty much everything. He's played the piano since he was like, born, plays guitar just as well, and can pretty much pick up an instrument and start playing it. I think the genes got divided unevenly—I can't play anything!" Alice said, sneaking up behind me. She always has done that.

"Wow. Now I feel really inadequate," Bella laughed.

"It's really nothing," I mumbled, trying to get the attention off me.

"Sure it is honey. He's done shows all over the country and is currently in the process of recording and album in Nashville. He'll probably fire this producer though and move to God knows where," Esme said.

"Nashville? You do country?" Bella asked. See, this is why I don't like people messing with my music.

"Not really. It's more classic rock/folk than anything else. LA wants everything synthesized, New York wants to take any of the blues or country influences out of it, London is totally into those Emo bands right now, and the problem I'm having in Nashville is that the guy is trying to take the grittier sound that makes it more rock out and smooth it into pop country," there, that was the best I could do without actually having to play.

"Could you play something for me?"

Shit. Shit, ass, rat, fuck.

Okay, so admittedly, one of the reasons I went into music was to get chicks—isn't that pretty much the reason why every horny teenage guy starts playing guitar? Some girl says, Wow, John Mayer is so hot, thus 15 year old boy thinks, I need to be John Mayer. This thought evolved into me living out of a beat up VW with a few guys after I left Dartmouth, touring and trying to pick up a record deal without having to use my parents connections. They all eventually got sick of the constant road life and managed to find steady jobs. I, however, kept at it as a solo act and finally decided to use my considerable trust fund to finance my own album, which I've been working on now for way too long. I no longer use music to get the girls, especially girls who know my family, know my family's story, and have an unknown angle. Been burned by that too many times.

However, I think the last time I felt this way about a girl was that time I picked up my dad's guitar intending to impress Kate Garrett with my superior skillz—I was 15, she was 18 and had a thing for guitar players. I was able to impress her enough to loose my virginity to her in the back of her parents' suburban. I'm pretty sure she's married with twin girls now.

"Play? Nah, I don't have a guitar and haven't really arranged anything for the piano in a while."

"I have a guitar." Jasper Alicefucking Whitlock. I was gonna have to have a talk with him.

"Come on dude, play! I haven't heard any of your new stuff in a while." Emmett was going to start pounding on the table, I knew it.

I looked back at Bella. Goddamn. She had that juicy looking bottom lip pulled between her teeth and there was that blush, fading into the deep v of her top…

"Sure, okay, why not." I know I am going to regret this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so alot shorter than yesterday's chapter, but hopefully you'll realize why: 1) there was a natural break in the story, and 2) come on, I just gave you a long chapter with EPOV! This is also my first attempt at citrus, so let me know how I did.**

**More favorites adds, which warms my heart! Thanks go out to: _books crazey_, _kbrath_, and _magentaskyy_! Also, thank you to _xxkissesandcuddlesxx_ for reviewing twice. I really do get the urge to write when I know people are reading and the reviews and adds help.**

**Okay, so to set the scene, Edward is playing. I've had him in my head as this guy singing the whole time and I plan to use his songs throughout the story: Adam Hood. Great musician, terribly unknown, and I've included a link to the youtube of him singing the song Edward sings live. (http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=PlhyuKLiPNw) If you are curious, go check him out. The lyrics I've included are to the song "Shelly."**

**Again, I'm not SM cause if I was I wouldn't be writing FF I would be cranking out more Twilight books, duh! Also, the lyrics belong to Adam Hood. No copyright infringement is intended to either person.**

_The cafe on the avenue _

_We shared a seat for two for the first time _

_And in spite of all our chemistry _

_You left me in a mystery _

_And I don't know why _

_So, Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_When you get home _

_I hoped that I would hear from you _

_At least every week or two _

_It's been awhile _

_And baby it hurts to know _

_Sometimes you got to let it go _

_When love runs out of time _

_So, Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_When you get home_

_It's been such a long time since my phone quit ringing _

_Guess I gotta let you go _

_Cause your sailing your ship and baby I'm sinking _

_And I don't want to sink no more_

_So, Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_Shelly won't you call _

_When you get home_

Holy sweet sinners.

First of all, I was unaware that Alice had a brother, let alone a tall, beautiful, green eyed, music playing God of a brother that made my mind think dirty things and my lady parts wake up like a hunter on the trail. Second of all, I was very aware that I knew him from somewhere. I knew exactly where.

Freshman year at Dartmouth. I was eighteen, two days shy of my nineteenth birthday, which happened to have fallen on a Sunday that year. Jessica, the roommate of the shoes chewing dog and misguided frat party fame, decided we needed to go out and celebrate. Predictably enough, that included high heels, tequila, and a bar that would let under 21s enter. We ended up at this place called Aro's (it was supposed to Arlo's but the L in the neon sign had burned out many years and several owners before and it had become a running joke that it would never be replaced) that had a shuffleboard court painted in the middle of the dance floor—and as an English speaker I use the term "dance floor" loosely. Jessica was playing quarters with a group of townies when a guy with a guitar got up on stage and just started playing. No introduction, nothing. He played a few rough originals, mostly covers, and the people at the place loved him. After his set was over, Jessica, predictably drunk, drug me over to talk to him. He was sort of shy, kind of quiet, and didn't give Jess the time of day. But there was someone that night he decided to take home. Me.

I was an 18, almost 19 year old virgin, and figured that a hot musician was probably as good a story as bookish Bella would ever get. I was still pretty drunk off the tequila shots Jess and I had taken earlier and I could tell he was on something.

We got back to his place, an off campus apartment that as Spartan as a place could be and still be livable, and couldn't keep our hands off each other. His mouth set me on fire and every time I touched him I could feel his muscles ripple under his skin. My thong ripped and he lost several buttons on his shirt we were in such a hurry. The sound that came from him when his hands found my breasts made me even wetter than his music had.

I didn't tell him I was virgin; he didn't ask. We barely made it to the mattress that was on the floor; he had somehow managed to put a condom on. I was more than ready but when he pushed into my body I was surprised not only at how much I was stretched but also at the sharp stab I felt. He froze, obviously having felt me tear.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he had asked, his breath coming fast on my neck below my ear and I could feel the tension in the muscles of his back.

I didn't answer, just moved my hips a little, hoping to encourage him to keep going. The guttural sound he made in response caused another rush to go straight to where we were joined and soon we were both moving together for the a common goal, the question and its cause forgotten.

I left while he was sleeping. I didn't want an awkward morning after conversation with a guy who didn't even learn my name before taking my virginity—although I was as much, if not more of, a participator in that as he.

I never went back to Aro's that year and spent most of my Friday nights in the library. I didn't tell Jessica what happened with the messy haired guitar player. I heard through the grapevine that he left school that December to tour with a band. I hoped he would be successful—he _was_ a talented musician.

Now I was sitting in Alice's bar in New Orleans, a world away from college, looking at her brother and knowing exactly the sounds he made when he came.

I also knew that he didn't remember me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, is all I can say. So many more favorite adds (even though I get the feeling it's just because you want a shout out, in the words of Esme, you naughty monkeys!) and alerts that I felt compelled to add another chapter. Thanks go to _kool kat132_ and _Yuumei-Tenshi_ for the favs and also to _kool kat132_ along with _clairxdexlune_ for the wonderful reviews! They really are a huge incentive to keep going.**

**I wanted to recommend a fic too: Life in B Minor by _jaxington_. More Musicward, lots of angst, and it's actually the fic that made me stop writing this one for a couple of months because I felt like it had a similar feel and was better written than mine. The more it's moved along the more I realize it is probably going to end up being different enough from this one that I won't feel like I'm being unintentionally inspired.**

**This is another EPOV and apparently he's really long winded--I always write more from him than I do from Bella. Apologies for any misspellings or grammar mistakes; I'm more concerned with writing the way the characters speak and think rather than correct grammar but the green squiggles drive me insane. **

**Again, no copyright infringement is intended, although here is a question: I'm not making any $ from this, a.k.a. stealing any $ from SM, so do I even need the disclaimer? Just a question for any other legal minded readers out there.**

**So without further ado.... **

EPOV

I woke up slightly disoriented. I knew I was in a bed, but the sheets were soft and red and smelled fresher than mine ever did. I could also smell coffee brewing and hear the faint sounds of music filtering in from somewhere. Ah, yes, Alice's place.

The good and bad thing about knowing the bar's owner is the luxury/requirement of staying until closing. I ended up playing a little more after Jasper and rest tricked me into performing initially, mainly because Bella has this unreadable look on her face and I was petty enough to want her to like my music and self-conscious enough to not want to go back and sit down if she didn't. The more I looked at her and the more she stared at me, the more I got that feeling you get when you know you've met someone before but can't place them.

Dartmouth, Dartmouth. Sadly I remember little from those days. I was in the middle of a very bad breakup with a girl, drinking too much, smoking too much weed, and "experimenting" (as all college students call it) with other illicit substances. Honestly, it was usually the chemical courage that got me to actually play in those days. It took a few weeks on the road, along with some fuck-terrible hangovers, to get me to try it sober and I realized the adrenaline high I got afterwards was better than anything a drug could do.

I ran my fingers through my already fucked up hair (I really needed a haircut and it was gross from not only the drive but being in a bar all night) and tried to think.

Was she in one of my classes? Even if she was, I didn't really go to them, so I probably wouldn't remember her from that.

I lived off campus in a shithole apartment and my only neighbors were a guy I bought pot from and a lesbian couple who always wanted to read my chakras or something. No hot girls who made me want to cum in my jeans.

A bar? Could be.

At the time I was in the very difficult process of breaking up with my high school girlfriend, Heidi Morelli. I'd started dating her at the high school Alice and I graduated from in L.A. She, being the daughter of a wealthy movie executive, wanted all the nicer things in life and thought the son of Carlisle Cullen would give it to her. She didn't understand why I wanted to go to college across the county to a place with no sun (to get away from her!) or why I wanted to be a musician. She called constantly, e-mailed constantly, and acted like the overbearing girlfriend she shouldn't have because I had clearly broken up with her before I moved to Vermont. Luckily she met some surfer guy by November and I got off the hook.

While dealing with this I spent time in some of the less discriminating bars that served and didn't ask too many questions if I wanted to play.

Okay, Cullen, think about the bars. Bella didn't really look like the type of girl that frequented the type of places I went to, but she was the same age as Alice and I so she couldn't really get into many of them Freshman year. What were the ones I played at? The Gin, which closed right after I left—that sucked because it was an awesome bar. The Burgundy Room, a bar painted, strangely enough, gold with midnight blue swirls. It was popular with the stoner crowd—I certainly couldn't see Bella there, ever. Then there was Arlo's, or Aro's as everyone called it. Aro's was a place townies congregated, under aged students went to drink, and the indie music crowd went to hear new acts. It was where I met the guys I started my cross country odyssey with and the place where I first got up the nerve to play any original stuff. It was also the place I met the woman who I couldn't get out of my head for almost a year and half. She was who my songs were about, even when they weren't.

I'd been smoking with my dealer neighbor, a Haitian student named Laurent, for most of the afternoon and evening; it was a Friday and no one had any classes, although even if I had I probably wouldn't have gone. We decided it would be a great idea to go hang out at Aro's for a while, see who was playing that night. We got there and along with being really stoned I decided it would be a wonderful idea to get some Jager bombs.

We'd been there about an hour when Laurent noticed a couple of girls come in, one with curly dark blond hair and confidence oozing from every pore and the other with shoulder length dark brown hair, looking like a scared rabbit hiding behind her eyeglasses. Laurent, ever the predator, pointed them out and suggested I play a few songs, see if I could get the blond one to dance. I asked Shelly, the owner, a guy with sleeve tattoos and a long black beard (Shelly, you make ask? Apparently he liked to eat the shells of shrimp instead of peeling them off, thus the nickname Shelly was born. I'm pretty sure his given name was Walter or something) if he minded if I played a few songs and was given a grunt and wave, which I took as an okay. I went to the car and grabbed my guitar; by the time I got back, Blondie had started playing a drinking game with some skeezy looking townies and Brownie was sitting alone, nursing her drink. I grabbed a stool, hooked up the equipment and began (Shelly, if you could guess, wasn't big on intros).

I did a few of the songs I was working on, mixed in with the popular stuff, _Brown Eyed Girl_, _Free Bird_, etc. By the time I got done, I was a little less high, a little less drunk, and Blondie made it clear she was interested in me. However, I was interested in her friend.

Up close she was far prettier than her friend, it was her uncertainty that made her seem less so at first. She was almost a foot shorter than I was but her body was perfect everywhere that it counted—small waist, firm, round ass, and boobs that looked like they would fill slightly more than a handful. Every time I asked her a question about herself she blushed, which just made me more intrigued. Hidden behind those glasses were dark eyes that a man could drown in if he wasn't careful; okay, so maybe that's the pot coloring the recollections.

I honestly didn't think she would go home with me. She seemed so unsure of herself but when I leaned down to whisper in her ear she licked her lips and nodded. I knew she was drunk, but I didn't know how drunk. Was this one of those situations where she would cry foul the next day?

"You sure?" I asked, looking into those eyes that felt like they might pull me in any second.

"Yeah," She breathed, putting her hand in mine and leading me out the door.

When we got the apartment there was none of the awkwardness usually attached to the first time one has sex with someone. We were like fertilizer and gasoline, innocuous enough on our own but combined and we exploded. I swear, and again, this could be the drugs talking, but when I touched her I felt an electric current pass between the two of us.

I couldn't get her clothes off fast enough; I couldn't my clothes off fast enough. When finally got rid of her bra I swear I felt all the air rush out of my lungs. Granted, I was only 18, and the boobs I had seen were mostly fake (let's face it, my teenage years were spent in L.A.) but these were the most perfect breasts I had ever seen.

The mewling sound she made when I took one of them in my mouth almost ended me (and I swear I could died a happy man). We somehow ended up naked and when I experimentally put my fingers between her legs to see how much time I needed before doing what I knew both of us really wanted, I found the tightest and wettest piece of heaven on earth. She moaned softly into my ear, pulled roughly on hair, and I knew that waiting wasn't an option for either of us.

I managed to find a condom and put it on, getting harder when I saw her laid out on my frameless bed, her hair in a mahogany tumble around her face. I positioned her hips and sank swiftly into her body; I froze when I heard her gasp and felt the rip that meant that night I had stolen not only Laurent's prey.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I was holding as still as possible. She was warm and oh-so-tight and I thanked every deity I could think of that I was wearing a condom because I knew that if I was bareback there would be no way I could stop.

She didn't say anything. I was afraid she was mad, regretting it, and that I had gotten myself into a potentially very dangerous situation. Then she moved.

What little control I had was gone. I began moving too, thrusting in and out of her, using her sounds as a guide to what felt good and what didn't. She moved with me and we continued the dance that was as old as time, to music that was playing only for the two of us.

I made sure she came before I did, the least I could do for having so rudely impaled her. I tried to think if she had mentioned that she was a virgin. My hazy mind couldn't remember and I vowed to ask her in the morning, after again attempting to make it up to her.

But in the morning she was gone. At first I had wondered if perhaps Laurent had slipped me some harder stuff than I was used to and this girl was a figment of some bad trip. Then I saw blood on the sheets and a ripped black lace thong on the floor. The smell of her was still all over my bed and I wallowed in it for awhile, realizing what a dumbass I was for not asking her name, not telling her mine, and not remembering her blonde friend's.

I went back to Aro's every Friday for the rest of the semester, sometimes even Saturday too, but neither Blondie nor Brownie ever showed again. I started writing songs, all of them about her, inserting other names when I had to, since I didn't know my girl's name. I started lurking around campus more, once chasing some poor girl through the library and scaring the shit out of her until I realized she wasn't my mystery girl. It was at this point I knew I was obsessed and if I didn't want to be arrested for assault I had to chill out.

By December I had completely checked out, withdrew from school, and started touring with a group of guys who had mediocre talent but their own instruments. I packed up and left town, wishing I knew who that girl had been but trying to rationalize that I would probably never see her again.

I suddenly felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I had done my best to forget about that encounter, as soul altering as it was—I had to or I was never going to get on with my life. But now that I had actually _tried_ to remember it was as plain as the scar I had on the back of my hand from where Alice stuck a fork in it when we were kids. Alice's new friend Bella was The Girl, My Girl, the one who I consciously or unconsciously compared every woman to, the one who I thought of whenever I was up at 3 am, the one who I used when I had no words.

And apparently, if the way she acted last night was any indication, she had no clue who I was.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am really cranking these chapters out--I hope they are good enough for the readers. I have to say, this chapter is not quite as scintillating as the last two. It's really more to move the story along and get Edward and Bella...well, you'll see. Oh, and just an FYI: at this particular moment, Edward looks like RP did at the LA premier of Sex Drive. Google it, I dare ya!**

**Thanks again to my favoriteers: _Lilibet68_, _kaykay823_, and _The-Devil's-Avenging-Angels_. Also thanks to my ever faithful reader and reviewer _xxkissesandcuddlesxx_. You all really do encourage me to keep this story up and my brain just keeps churning ideas out. I will probably do alternating POVs from now on, I've liked how that has worked so far, but I may have to change that for creative reasons later. We'll see how it works out. I'll keep letting you know who's POV it is though.**

**The house they look at is actually currently for sale in NOLA but I'm obviously changing up some things about it to fit the story (i.e This house is smack dab in the middle of the Quarter's gay district but it wouldn't really help the story out too much if a character had a house there. For my purposes all locations are in the Quarter, I'm just not specifying where.) If you want to see what it looks like in general go to: http://www(dot)trulia(dot)com/property/1076782430-941-Dauphine-St-New-Orleans-LA-70116**

**I don't own any of SM's property, intellectual or otherwise, although if I did it would probably be pretty cool, as long as it wasn't something like an old washing machine. **

BPOV

I could see steam rising up from the streets out of my apartment window. Apparently between 2am, when I was finally able to extricate myself from the clutches of Alice and chains of her brother's green eyes, and 8am, it had rained. This did not bode well for my day.

In most places, rain means cooler temperatures and a freshness lingering in the air. In the middle of a southern summer it meant my hair was going to be impossible to tame, the humidity would be almost 100%, and the normal smell of garbage that should stay in the dumpsters would have washed out into the streets in order to add more fragrance to the jambalaya that is New Orleans.

I had work at 9. I put my hair up in a ballerina's bun and wore the lightest outfit I could find, hoping to combat the heat: a white gauzy maxi dress with spaghetti straps. I've often wondered how people who have to wear real clothes, like suits, make it between the months of April and October below the Mason-Dixon line; I guess that's the reason why seersucker was invented.

The streets were still pretty deserted as I meandered my way to the shop—I knew I didn't want to be awake and I only had two beers the night before. Most of the revelers the city was famous for were still sleeping off the previous night's activities.

I unlocked the door at precisely 9; sorry Irina, things would have to stay a little dusty today. What's an antique shop without a little dust, right? I made myself comfortable behind the counter and waited for either my first customer or when Irina arrived at 2 to relieve me, whichever came first.

_Ding, ding!_

A customer this early? I looked at the antique clock; it read 9:03. Really?

"Good morning!" Of course it would be Alice. Who else would it be?

"Alice, what on Earth are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be in bed with that gorgeous hunk of a husband of yours?" I asked her, not bothering to look up from my book.

"Hello Bella." Shit, shit, shit. Of course I would make an inappropriate comment in front of Alice's mother. Who was also Edward's mother. Shit, shit, shit!

"Oh, Esme, good morning! I didn't realize you would here," I said, trying remove my foot from my mouth and get off the stool I was sitting on at the same time. Predictably, as always happens whenever I am already embarrassed and then attempt to do two things at once, the foot that currently wasn't residing halfway down my esophagus caught on the bottom rung of the stool which sent me, the stool, and most of the knickknacks on the counter, because only I would try to catch myself by grabbing for a porcelain elephant, flying onto the floor. Now, not only was my pride injured, but so was my ankle, wrist, and I was pretty sure I was bleeding somewhere.

"Oh crap, Bella!" Alice exclaimed through her laugher, as she rushed over to help pick me up off the floor.

"Thanks, Alice. The laughing is helping," I grumbled, allowing her to basically pick me up and set me on my feet again. Wow, she was abnormally strong for such a small person.

"I'm sorry, but if you could have seen yourself—whoa, ah, ah!" Alice made a windmill motion with her arms and kicked out one leg. If I hadn't been afraid she was going to break something I would have laughed right along with her.

"So glad my pathologic ability to injure myself standing still amuses you. I assume there is a reason you have come here this early to mock me?" I asked her, bending down to right the stool and retrieve the objects that had fallen along with me.

"Actually, yes, Bella, there is. Edward here decided this morning to move to New Orleans to finish his album. Carlisle has a very good friend who was at Alice's last night and offered to help him with the recording and transferring everything…anyway, the point is that we were wondering if you knew of any places for rent before we started looking. The name Cullen does tend to raise prices a bit," Esme said all this while gesturing behind her. How I had missed seeing Edward upon his arrival I had no idea, but the fact that he had seen the oh, so embarrassing incident of me falling ass over elbows wasn't helping me have a brighter outlook on the rest of my day. Again I glanced at the clock. Still wasn't even 10 am yet.

He was leaning against this awful looking armoire that was very expensive. He looked hotter than the temperature outside felt, with messy almost too long hair, black jeans, a wrinkled grey button up shirt, and, holy mother of God, he hadn't shaved. His black wayfarers were held in his hand and he looked like he would rather be anywhere but in the same room as me. Wonderful. I'm carrying a torch for a man who took my virginity almost seven years ago and doesn't remember it, has probably fucked hundreds of girls since then, and finds me as interesting as Chippendale dining room set Irina had displayed so beautifully with antique English porcelain. And yes, the only reason I knew it's Chippendale is because the name reminds me of the cartoon, okay?

"Well, I don't know anywhere in particular, but I have a friend who deals in real estate, mainly uptown, but he does have contacts in the Quarter. I don't know where you were looking…" Your turn Mr. Fantastic.

"Um, I really don't know," was it me or did he look nervous? "I'm only familiar with some of the city, but I think I want to be near Alice's place at the very least."

"Okay, let me make a phone call."

* * *

"Bella! Over here!" I raised my hand to shade my eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun, having already regretted leaving my sunglasses at home that morning. I saw my friend, standing on the corner of Royal St., waving frantically.

"Jacob!" My face split into a wide grin. Jacob Black was one of the first friends I made in New Orleans and one of the only ones still left in the city. When we met he was working in an autobody shop; now he was one of the premier real estate agents in the city.

Jacob rushed over, swept me up into his arms and gave me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Jacob, this is my new friend Alice Whitlock, her mother Esme Cullen and her twin brother Edward."

"Esme Cullen? Of Cullen's Army fame? Awesome! Love your stuff. And I do believe that this Alice is the owner of Midnight Sun? Been getting rave reviews, especially the interior," Jacob glanced at Edward, "Sorry, brother, haven't heard of you."

"Well, you will, don't worry. Edward's a musician," Alice said, putting an arm around her brother's waist. I couldn't tell what Edward's expression was behind his sunglasses, but his mouth was pressed together in a tight line.

"Sure, sure. Okay, well, we're looking residential, right?" Jacob asked and off we were into Jacob's world of square feet, balconies, and streetside parking.

"So are you going to need somewhere to park? Cause that's at a premium here in the quarter," Jacob's accent rolled over us, making me feel relaxed and at ease.

"Yeah, I have an Aston Martin Vantage Volante," Edward replied. I had no clue what that meant, but apparently Jacob did, because his eyes lit up.

"Seriously? You're kidding? Those are so fucking rare I've never even seen one available for sale. How do you have one of those?" I had rarely seen Jacob so excited about anything.

"Uh, I found it in a barn in Austin, basically rotting away. The guy gave her to me for just about nothing and I've been trying to restore her."

"No shit? If you wouldn't mind I would love to take a look. Cars are kind of my thing." God, Jacob, could you sound any more arrogant?

"God, Jacob, could you sound any more arrogant?" Well, looks like my brain filter was broken today in the fall.

"Oh, haha, Bells. You know I'm good with cars, almost as good as I am with the ladies," Jacob said, wiggling his eyebrows at me and smiling.

We looked at a small place on Bourbon, immediately vetoed by Edward for its lack of privacy. Alice said no to the next two, something about how the energy wasn't right or something.

"Well, there is this place near Bella's…but it's larger than what you indicated and the seller wants a pretty penny—he put a lot of money into remodeling along with keeping as many of the original features as possible."

"How much larger?" Edward asked, not even looking at me.

"It's called a Creole cottage. Built in 1910, adjacent parking with a motorized gate, original hardwood floors. Just over 1600 square feet. Two beds, two baths. Lists for $649,000," Jacob said, leading the party back through the Veiux Carre towards where I lived.

I knew what house Jacob was talking about. It was one I drooled over every time I went for an early morning stroll. Cheerful yellow paint, green shutters, it even had a place for a garden, not something easy to find in the Quarter. I knew it was for sale but had never even asked Jacob the price. I couldn't believe that anyone my age would even be looking at real estate in that price range, but then again, I was also walking around with the Cullens.

When we finally got there (after Jacob pointed out my sad little building, the struggling marigolds on the fire escape, and I almost broke my hand hitting him in the attempt to shut him up) it was as beautiful as I knew it would be.

"Oh, Edward!" Esme exclaimed once we got inside. It had the traditional Creole double front doors, large floor to ceiling windows with shutters to block out the sun but let in the breeze. The bathrooms had been redone quite nicely and while Edward and Alice were debating whether he should make the second bedroom a guest room or a "man cave" as Edward called it, I wandered outside to the courtyard.

Like most garden areas in the Quarter, it was surrounded by tall brick walls and had a patio area taking up most of the space. However, it seemed that someone, once upon a time, had been quite the gardener, as in one corner was a Japanese Magnolia, which I knew would have beautiful pink flowers in the spring, and in the other a crepe myrtle tree, long past its springtime flowering also. There were daylilies of every color, plants that I could tell were irises, and Confederate Jasmine winding its way up latticework built for that purpose. I could smell gardenias somewhere and was leaning over to smell a pink rose when I thought I felt someone come up behind me.

"Ouch!" In the process of turning around I hung my thumb on the roses. I immediately put the thumb in my mouth. I saw that I was no longer alone in this heaven of scent. Edward had joined me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Had a bit of a block when attempting this chapter. I began it, deleted the whole thing, and started over. I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with the way it turned out, but c'est le vie.**

**I got both a fav add and a review from _Twilightrulz101_, so thank you kindly. _Em Masen_ also reviewed and sent a lovely PM, which I hope I answered sufficiently. I, once again, am not SM, and do not own these characters. **

**Please enjoy, please review, and please bear with me as I work out my writer's block.**

EPOV

Seeing Bella standing in the garden among the roses was like something out of a painting. The long white dress, the hair put up with curling tendrils escaping, with jasmine and gardenia scents in the air, I was reminded of my mother's garden from my childhood.

"Ouch," I heard Bella mutter as she turned around, snagging her thumb on the roses she was just admiring. She began sucking on the wound and all I could think of was that mouth wrapped around my cock. Great. Hard again.

"I see you found the garden," I said. Yes, I realize this is a wonderful and witty observation, but I need some kind of intro, right?

"Yeah. It's beautiful—like an oasis within the city. I guess that's the purpose though," she trailed off, turning back to the roses.

The dress Bella was wearing had taunted me all day. It was spaghetti strapped, backless, meaning she wasn't wearing a bra. In and out of all the air conditioned rentals meant I was forced to deal with some serious nippage on the girl all afternoon. She may not have known who I was, but I certainly remembered her and what it felt like to cup her breasts in my hands and take one of her pink nipples in my mouth. Yeah, shouldn't think these things while wandering around with my mother and sister.

I stepped forward, crowding into her personal space. I leaned over her right shoulder, as if I too was attempting to stop and smell the roses.

"Smells delicious." I meant her, of course, and even if her mind didn't know what I meant, her body sure did, because in the afternoon heat her nipples once again peaked and goosebumps broke out along her arms. I saw her tongue dart out to wet her lips.

"Yeah, they do smell good, don't they?" her voice was quiet and low, a tone I recognized from so many years before.

I adjusted my stance so she would feel my breath on her neck, "If I bought this place I would have to get one of those outdoor couches just so I could sit out here."

"Just sit?"

"Well, I'm sure I would do other things too."

"Like what?"

"Write music, have people over…"

"You know many people in New Orleans?"

"Besides Alice? Just you."

Bella turned around suddenly and we were inches apart. She was looking at my chest and more than anything I wanted her to look at me, _really_ look at me, and get her to recognize me, but I was afraid that if I touched her she would bolt. Her breathing was quick and it took her a second to finally look me in the eye. When she did, I felt like the whole world had fallen away from the two of us. I slowly slide my hands up her arms, over her shoulders, until I was cupping her face.

"I was wrong the other night. I do remember you from Dartmouth," I whispered, moving in to finally, _finally_, kiss her like I had been wanting to for years.

"Hey, Bella! Edward! You two out here? I'm sure they're back here, it's beautiful, the owner is quite the gardener," I heard Jacob Black's voice cut loudly through the haze within which Bella and I had been cloaked. Bella jumped almost a foot high and practically ran to where Jacob, my mother, and Alice were walking into the courtyard.

"So, Eddie, what do you think?" Jacob asked, pointing his too white teeth in my direction.

Okay, this did it. I didn't like the guy when we met him—he was all over Bella immediately and kept teasing her the whole afternoon like he had some right to, or something. Next, he interrupts what could be the most amazing moment of my life so he can make a sale. Now this? Eddie? Fuck him and his ridiculous muscles, tanned skin, white teeth, artfully cut black hair, south Louisiana accent, and white linen suit. What? I'm secure in my masculinity enough to check out the competition.

"I do like the house, but I'm not sure. Let me think on it," I responded, "And it's Edward—not Eddie or Ed. Just Edward."

"Sure, sure, brother." Stop calling me brother, you dick. And get your arm off of Bella's shoulders. And Bella, look at me.

"Well, the buyer is very interested in selling—honestly, he's a good friend of mine and I might be able to work with you on the price if that's the issue. Here's my card," Jacob handed me his business card, not ivory like most, but black with silver printing, "and just give me a call if you change your mind. Alice, Esme, Edward, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance. If you don't mind, Bella and I will part ways with you here; we have a bit of a standing Saturday night date for dinner." What. The. Fuck.

"You're still coming by the bar tonight, aren't you, hon?" Alice asked, going to give Bella a hug.

"Uh, I don't know Alice…" Bella practically whispered.

"Come on, you don't have to sing tonight—I'm making Edward do his thing some more, hopefully get some local following while he records. You can just hang with Em and Rose at the bar. Mum and Dad are going on some haunted New Orleans tour. Seriously Mum, I can't believe you're doing that, it's so touristy…" Alice kissed Bella on the cheek and Bella was lead out of the courtyard by a hidden gate by Jacob, while my mother and Alice went back through the house. Bella didn't look at me once.

So, a standing Saturday night date with Jacob? Is he her boyfriend? They didn't seem to be dating, but there was certainly a familiarity there that was deeper than "just friends." And I could admit that he was an attractive guy, if a girl went for that kind of thing. Did Bella go for that kind of thing? I honestly had no idea. I felt like hitting my head against a wall. Bella and I were explosive together—I know she still felt it. What I didn't know was why she seemed scared. I told myself that tonight I wasn't going to let her run again. I didn't care if she and Jacob were a couple; I wasn't going to let that make me stay away from her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, so I got on a bit of a roll on this chapter. It's the longest of any I've written and I hope you like it; I had a blast writing it.**

**Again, thanks to all of you readers and reviewers out there. Those who added me to their Favorites are: _idi-schatzy_ and _AmandaWalters1_. Thanks to both of you! Also, thanks to those adding me to their alerts list; I'm not listing you simply in the interest of space, but do know that I am so thankful and happy everytime I see that message in my inbox!**

**I am not SM, nor am I Adam Hood, although if you want to see him singing the song at the end of the chapter, go to: (http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=7EjSUPnoYUI&feature=related). No copyright infringement is intended to either party, just lots of props.**

"So, you're telling me that Seth still hasn't told his parents? And the wedding is in September, as in two months away?"

Jacob and I had arrived back to my apartment and I could tell he was practically busting at the seams to ask me about Edward, but as I wasn't quite sure what to tell him yet, I steered the conversation into Bella-neutral territory.

"Well, you know what happened with that thing with Leah. I just don't think he's ready to do that again with Harry and Sue," Jacob responded, stretching out on my couch with his massive feet hanging over one arm.

I was in the kitchen (really just a tiny four by four area of tile that had a stove and a fridge) making a salad to go with the lasagna I had heating in the oven.

"It's not every day that your daughter comes to you and says, 'Hey, Mom, Dad, you know that guy, Sam, the one I've been dating forever? Well, he's taken a fancy to cousin Emily, you remember her, right? Well, since he can't decide between the two of us, and we're such close friends and all, we've decided to live in a monogamous three way relationship with each other. Oh, and I'm pregnant—so is Emily. We're both due in April." Completely true story btw. I do not stand in judgment, they are apparently very happy together, but I don't think I could share a guy with one of my girlfriends, especially one I'm related to. It just seems icky. (P.S., in case you were wondering, both Leah and Emily had baby girls within hours of each other. I wonder if Sam would be happy with his little ladies if they entered into the same type of situation.)

"Seriously. And since Harry is a state senator, things could get pretty messy if any of this gets public," Jacob got up from his station on the couch and started rummaging around my cupboards for snacks. The guy could never wait until the food was ready.

"Well, he's got to say something sooner or later. Better the Clearwaters learn from Seth rather than a newspaper. Don't eat all my olives!"

"That's what I keep saying. I mean, it's not like it's a huge secret by this point—we've been together going on four years, Seth's selling his house—hopefully to that hot hunk of man who practically ate you this afternoon—so we can move into my much nicer loft, we've got engraved fucking invitations for our wedding in Hawaii! They know Seth's gay, they know we're together—I don't understand why he's having such a shit fit about telling them we're getting married. Hell, it's practically traditional compared to his sister," Jacob said, all the while gesturing wildly and ending by throwing my empty olive jar in the trash. Pig.

"Lasagna's ready. Seriously Jacob, you can wait until it's cool enough so you won't burn your mouth, you just ate an entire jar of olives. I know it's frustrating, but think of it like this: he's always been the nice, stable, responsible child. He went to LSU because his parents wanted him to, he went to Tulane law because that's where his dad went, now he practices at his dad's old firm. It's one thing to tell your parents that you're gay, it's another to say, 'Pops, I realize how much you've done for me, how much you've dreamed I would accomplish, but I am potentially nullifying all of that because we live in a southern state with some people who are very narrow minded and I am planning to tell the world that I am a flaming queen.'" Don't worry, I can talk to Jacob like this.

"But he's not a flaming queen! And we live in New Orleans for fucks sake—its motto is practically 'Queer Capital of the South'!"

"But that's not how Seth sees it."

"You've been watching too much Glee," Jacob grumbled, knowing I am right but refusing to admit it.

"Just stop pushing him. You've got a few weeks before those wonderful engraved invitations have to go out and I know Seth loves you more than the so-called image he is supposed to portray. Plus, I'm pretty sure having a gay son would only help his dad's campaign—you've got to pander to your voters," I said, getting the bread Jacob didn't know I had out of the oven.

"Ah, yes, the gay vote. Harry should realize that since most of us don't have children we have lots of disposable income to donate places—such as political campaigns," Jacob smiled, seeing the fresh French bread dripping with olive oil, "Anyway, enough about my tragic love life; let's talk about yours. What is the story with this Edward character, and don't tell me nothing, I know the look he had on his face, Bells—that man is interested with a capital HARD ON."

"God, Jacob! You are such a horndog!"

"No, I'm a man. I may be a gay man, but I'm a man nonetheless—I can tell when another is interested, even if he isn't of my kind. That beautiful thing wanted you Isabella and if I'm not mistaken you wanted him," Jacob shoved some bread into his mouth and raised an eyebrow at me. See, this is what bothers me about him; he can read me like a book.

"Yes, he's attractive, yes, he's talented—and don't think I didn't notice your little snub about his lack of notoriety—but…"

"But what? Hit that shit, Bella. You haven't had any action since that horrible incident with he-who-shall-not-be-named. That didn't scare you off men did it? Because if it did, my friend Bree has always thought you were quite tasty." Lord, deliver me from Jacob and his attempts at matchmaking.

"Don't refer to Mike Newton as 'He-who-shall-not-be-named'; it gives him way too more importance than he deserves. And no, Mike's small dick did not forever turn me off men; whatever this thing between Edward and I is, it's complicated," I said, suddenly losing my appetite.

"Complicated how? He's a very hot guy and, even though I don't swing that way, you're a very attractive girl. You've both got the working parts—trust me, I did a visual inspection of him in the courtyard and he's certainly got No Name beat by at least six inches," Jacob said, pouring both of us more wine.

"He's got him beat by seven," I muttered, picking up my glass and drinking deeply.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jacob looked at me wide-eyed, "You're telling me that you know Edward, as in _know_, know Edward? Spill it sister."

So I told him. I told him the whole sad tale of virgin Bella, hot musician Edward, and the walk of shame.

"Bells, that's not the walk of shame," Jacob said, shaking his head, "The walk of shame was that pathetic limp you had for a couple of days after Fig Newton's jack rabbit sex. What you did was a Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am."

"What?! No I didn't!"

"Yes you did. You pulled a fuck and run. I can't believe the guy will even look at you again—that's so embarrassing," he said into his wine glass.

"It's happened to you?" I asked, disbelievingly.

"Not for a while, but when I was still on women, it happened once. While I was glad—because, let's face it, I was pretty sure I never wanted to see her again—it's still insulting. Was it not good? Did I smell funny? Did she wake up and think, 'Holy crap, this guy is ugly!'? But stop right there; we're not turning it back on me. Why don't you say something to him?"

"What do I say? 'Remember me? I tricked you into taking my virginity about seven years ago then ran away without so much as a thank you.' I think not." Jacob could be so dense sometimes.

"Bella, you can be so dense sometimes." Hey! "Trust me, he remembers you," Jacob said, smiling at me.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Dicks don't lie, Bells, dicks don't lie."

"Nice, Jacob. Maybe your drag name can be Shakira."

* * *

Later that night, I took Jacob with me to Midnight Sun. He insisted on hearing Edward play and also wanted to see what Alice had done with the space. We sat at one of the tables in a darker section of the bar, the candlelight flickering as we leaned close together to talk over the din. Alice was working the floor while Jasper manned the bar—it was crowded and she was able to weave her way through the masses a bit easier. I saw Rosalie and Emmett doing their best to hide in plain sight; she was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a fedora pulled low on her head and he was trying to disguise his bulk with cargo pants. No one was really bothering them, although I didn't know whether it was due to their attempts at camouflage or just because the city is that laid back. She gave me a small way but kept her boisterous husband in his seat when he made as if to get up and come speak; I knew that once they moved whatever cover they had would be blown.

I was sipping my new drink of choice, Alice's whisky sour, and Jacob had his gin and tonic, when suddenly Alice's voice filtered through the speakers.

"Okay, okay everyone. Had to give my girl the night off, but please welcome my twin brother, Edward Masen. He'll be performing some original stuff that's he working on in the studio along with a few covers of some old favorites, so please, enjoy," and with that, she disappeared, leaving Edward up alone on a bar stool with his guitar. I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

"Masen? I thought his last name was Cullen," Jacob whispered in my ear.

"I thought it was. Maybe that's his stage name or something, like Emilio Estevez and Martin Sheen—you know, doesn't want to get famous because of his parents," I whispered back.

"Yeah, look how well that turned out for Emilio," Jacob scoffed.

"How many times did you see The Mighty Ducks when you were a kid?"

"Touché."

_There's a light in the city_

_Standing five miles high_

_I'm crossing that river_

_There's a girl on my mind_

_It's high atop the buildings_

_Flashing red_

_And it's just one more reason_

_She's stuck in my head_

_And it buzzes like neon_

_And it makes me feel fine_

_And the way she leads me on_

_It's a real good sign_

"Um, wow. Okay, so I take back the no fame dig—this guy is good," Jacob hissed to me, halfway through the song. I had to agree. That hair, that face, those hands…so my thoughts weren't completely focused on his musical talent.

_From Lawrence to Springfield_

_There ain't nothing out there_

_Just hills and prairies_

_And this cold dry air_

_I'm starting to hear voices_

_From home sweet home_

_Too far out to turn around_

_Tired of being alone_

_And it busses like neon  
And it makes me feel fine_

_And the way she leads me on_

_It's a real good sign_

I didn't know if he had seen me yet, but I had a feeling he hadn't, as I knew what those stage lights did to your vision. As he finished his song and launched into _My Stupid Mouth_ by John Mayer, Jacob turned to me, "I've got to call Seth. He won't believe me when I tell I'm trying to help bring your sex life back from the dead—plus, I want to tell him about having a possible buyer for the house."

"Isn't he in Baton Rouge this weekend?"

"Yeah, he's helping Emily with the babies. It's some kind of anniversary for his sister and Sam or something and they went to Hot Springs, woowho. I don't really ask too many questions because it's so confusing," Jacob said, rolling his eyes.

"Tell him I said hello and to give the girls a kiss for me."

Jacob got up and walked outside to make his phone call. Almost immediately, Alice was sitting in his vacated chair.

"He's gay right?"

"Well, good evening to you too Alice. Beautiful weather we're having," I said, taking a sip from the drink she handed me to refresh me empty one. If I kept this up I was going to have one monster hangover.

"Yeah, yeah, weather, whatever. Point is, I thought he was gay the second I met him, but then you had a dinner date with him and now he's here with you, and my gaydar is never wrong, _never_. So spill it sister," Alice said, leaning closer to me.

"Well, considering he used that exact phrase with me not three hours ago, I would say your gaydar is fine. He's calling his boyfriend who he plans to marry in a couple of months—the owner of that house from this afternoon, by the way—to tell him what he's doing tonight," I got a weird feeling with the insistent nature of Alice's questioning, "Why do you care if Jacob's gay or not? You and Jasper looking for some fun?" I joked.

"While that does sound very interesting and I have to say that in another lifetime I would probably be open to the experience, my motives are not so selfish. I saw the way you and my brother were eyeing each other today—I'm just making sure that no Cullen crosses some kind of boundary line and poaches on someone else's territory," Alice said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Okay, one, the idea of me belonging to someone is absurd, and two, what kind of boundary line are we referring to?"

"You know guys; they would pee on you to mark you like a dog does if it was socially acceptable. I swear that Jasper relaxed tenfold once he finally put this ring on my finger—the ancient signal to other guys that I'm his. So, my brother, hot or not?"

"I'm _so_ not talking about this with you, Alice."

"I'll take that as a hot vote. Thanks Bella," Alice said and was gone.

Why was everyone suddenly so interested in my love life?

**Alright, that's the end of that chapter, but I have another one brewing already. Please review!!!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go again with one of Edward's chapters.  
Thanks to _Igarza1313_ for the fav add and the review from _xxkissesandcuddlesxx._  
I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but I felt like we needed to get moving already! Let me know what you all think and please review, again, even if it's on a 1-10 scale (but do tell me what is the best, 1 or 10, haha). **

**No copyright infringement intended, for either SM or AH, who again has a song featured here (http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=krKiWDVZi0c) that I am pimping out like nobody's business. Seriously everyone, go listen to his stuff, it's awesome.**

**Here we go readers, Edward at Midnight Sun.**

EPOV

I was seething. She was sitting in a dark corner with that, that, animal, huddled over the table, candlelight flickering over the two's features, enhancing hers and distorting his. She laughed at something he said, her hair flowing long and wavy down her back. When he reached up and pulled a piece out of her lip gloss and tucked it behind her ear I almost lost it. She was supposed to be here tonight for me, but she instead she brought him along.

"I wouldn't be concerned if I were you," Alice said, circling me on her way get another full tray from Jasper.

"And why would that be?" I asked, glowering at my sister as she pinched her husband on the ass.

"Jacob's gay," Alice hissed in my ear as she passed by me with her tray, ready to deliver more libations to her thirsty customers.

Gay? Huh. He was very well groomed for a straight man, although I had seen Emmett looking pretty sharp before (of course, this was with the help of Rose and Rose's stylist—to Emmett, clothes were whatever the first thing his hands found). He knew cars, which really didn't mean anything, one way or another. The way his arm was around Bella made me think twice about Alice's assertion. I needed another opinion on this one.

"Hey, Jazz!" I shouted, getting his attention from where he was doing tricks with peanuts. Douche.

"What's up my brother?" Jasper asked, sauntering over and making sure the women he was just talking to got a good look at his ass.

"That guy sitting with Bella? Think he's gay?" Jasper leaned over and peered through the crowd to where the two were sitting.

"Hmmm, hard to say. He sure don't look like our kind, if you know what I mean, but then again, this is New Orleans, pretty much anything goes. Hell, while construction was being done here I worked at Proud Mary's over on Bourbon—as your sister knows damn good and well, I don't swing that way, but then again, pretty is pretty no matter which side of the fence it's on." I hated Jasper's stupid Texasisms. Okay, I didn't but right now I didn't want to hear all that shit. I needed to know if my woman was being taken by some over-muscled, over-tanned, good-ol'-boy, or if he was just the gay best friend. Damn it, Jasper!

Then I heard Alice making her introduction. I did not need this right now—I needed time to stalk and analyze, I did not need to be distracted trying to play. One good thing about this royal mind fuck going on was that I didn't have time to get nervous. I just got up there, started my set with an original I wrote one late night in Seattle after I saw someone I thought was the girl I now know is Bella.

All through the song I kept seeing Jacob whispering in Bella's ear and her giggling, which didn't help my mood. Jacob got up to make a phone call and I saw Alice sit down. I knew the look she had on her face and it could only mean one thing: Alice was meddling. Shit. I'm stuck up here, playing like a fucking trained monkey, while Alice is saying something that is making Bella's face turn as red as a beet and causing her to down the fresh drink Alice just gave her.

Jacob finally came back from outside, gave Bella a kiss on the cheek after whispering something to her (on the cheek? Does a boyfriend do that?) and left. The whole time she just sat listening to my music, head moving slightly to the melody, foot tapping every now and then. Her eyes never left me and I liked it more than I should have. Alice eventually grabbed her by the hand and danced her over to the bar to sit and those hip shimmies Bella did reminded me of something much less innocent than dancing.

For my last song, I pulled out something that I had written another night with Bella on my mind.

_There's a late night diner on the south side of town_

_That pretty girls on Friday should never hand around_

_But the lady two seats over is sitting there crying all alone_

_If she's here at this hour, it must be hell on her at home_

_I'm not trying to know your business_

_I'm not trying to change your life_

_It costs a lot to love somebody_

_And I know because I had to pay the price_

_I finished up my coffee and put my dollar down to leave_

_If I was a few years younger, she'd be coming home with me_

_But that's be the bad decision that I made one too many times_

_You know we might be forgiven; I'm just not good company tonight_

_I'm not trying to know your business_

_I'm not trying to change your life_

_It costs a lot to love somebody_

_And I know because I had to pay the price_

_It costs a lot to love somebody_

_And I know because I had to pay the price_

When I finished the song, the place erupted in applause, but all I cared about was Bella's reaction. I looked to where she had been sitting at the bar and my eyes met hers. She gave me a small smile.

I walked over to her, through the crowd of well wishers, and stood beside her.

"So, did you like the music?" I asked, self-consciously.

"Yeah, I did. A lot," she answered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Oh, man, I was hooked.

"Excuse me, Edward Cullen?" A tall grey haired man with pale grey eyes was standing at my elbow; he took a look at Bella and dismissed her quickly.

"Yeah. Your name is?"

"Marcus Marco; your father is an old friend of mine. He informed that you are looking for another venue in which to record your album. I came tonight to make sure I wasn't going to be wasting valuable time and studio space on you. I appears I won't."

Great, talking business with a guy my dad knows when the hottest woman alive is standing there, wearing next to nothing, licking her lips at me and my music. Fuck.

"Mr. Marco, why don't we get a table and discuss some things?" I asked him, knowing that I really didn't have any other option. The man came to listen to my stuff and he was letting me record in his studio—he was a cockblocker, but I had to give him the time.

"Please, call me Marcus. I realize I am quite older than you but I would prefer not to think of it too often. It's late, I personally don't like to discuss business on a Saturday night when there are much better things to be doing. No rush son, you're in New Orleans now. Just come by the studio on Monday, around nine, and we'll hash everything out then," Marcus handed me his card and wandered off into the muggy night.

I looked down and saw "Double M Studios" with an address somewhere in the city. I pocketed it and turned back to talk to Bella, but what I found was not what I had left.

She was sitting at the bar again, but had been joined by an athletic looking blond guy who was a good five inches shorter than I, who kept scratching and moving his balls around as he talked to her. Her body language said leave me alone, but apparently Jock Guy wasn't getting it. I glanced at Alice and saw her barley containing laughter; the guy wasn't a danger, but he did need to back up off Bella.

"So I said, 'Well, maybe you should figure out what exactly it is that you need before you call here!' I mean, really, who calls a sporting goods store just to ask what kind of running shoes we have?" The guy was telling a story about something and Bella did not look pleased.

"Someone who wants to take up running?" Bella asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"You're so cute Bella—someone who wants to take up running! You never fail to make me laugh!" Jock Guy was very enthusiastic. "So, now that your life has calmed down some, how about we pick up where we left off last time?"

"Um…well, see…it's still, uh, really busy for me…at work, and I just don't….maybe dating isn't really the best thing for us, Mike….you know I really value you as a friend…and, uh…." Bella was struggling, turning redder and redder, looking panicked. I walked up behind Jock Guy, otherwise known as Mike, and practically saw the light bulb go off in her head.

Suddenly her face broke into a wide smile and she said, "Hey, babe. Did you finish everything up with that guy already?" She got up off the barstool and circled around to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing herself into my side. I immediately put an arm around her, my hand sliding into the open back of her dress, causing her to shiver slightly even in the heat of the bar. I didn't care that this was for Mike's benefit; I was going to take every advantage I could.

"Yeah, he just wants to meet Monday sometime to discuss recording. Who's your friend?" I had started making circles with my fingertips on her naked skin inside her dress. I could tell her pulse was starting to beat faster and her color got higher. I caught Alice's eye where she was pulling some beers, and she raised an eyebrow at me while smirking.

"Uh, this is Mike, Mike Newton. Mike, this is Edward Cullen."

"Bella and I dated. I used to _know_ Bella pretty good." It's well, you fucker, and yes I did catch the emphasis you put on the word "know", as in, "I fucked her six ways from Sunday." Don't beat up this douchewad in Alice's bar, Edward, she'll get mad if there are bloodstains on the hardwoods she and Jasper refinished.

"I don't know how good it was, Mike," Bella said and I could feel her spine stiffen in irritation. Nice, Bella. I wonder if she says it because he has a tiny dick or because he's a lousy lay?

"It was _very_ good, Bella," Mike retorted, his cheeks coloring also. So he's not as dim as I thought.

"If memory serves me correctly, Mike, I didn't know you for very _long_, nor did I ever _come_ around when you wanted. Honestly, very _little_ impression was left upon me." So he has a tiny dick _and_ he's a lousy lay. As much as I hate to think of him touching her, at least Bella didn't put up with it.

Mike was looking like he was about to explode into tiny pieces when I interrupted the verbal sparring. "Bella, sweetheart, don't you think it's time we went home? It's been a long day and I've missed your, uh, company," I said this is as lover-like as I dared, and she looked up at me with pupils flaring and I could feel goose bumps rising on her skin.

"Yeah, Edward. Well, Mike, I'm glad you seem to be doing well. Good night," Bella said, grabbing the purse that Jasper was handing her over the bar, and allowing me to guide her out of the place, leaving Mike fuming.

"Hey, bartender? Can I get a shot of tequila?" I heard Mike ask Jasper as we left. Jasper's returning laugh followed us out onto the street.

I still had my hand inside Bella's dress and she didn't seem to want to remove it. Hmmm. I hadn't really thought about where things would go once we got outside—I just followed Bella as she wandered up the street, silent as to what was going on in that head of her's.

"So, you dated that guy?" I finally asked, unable to deal with the silence anymore.

Bella snorted. "Yeah, for like a minute. We 'knew' each other once, and I'm not really sure that it actually counts as his dick was so small that I didn't know whether or not I was actually having sex. Plus, it was over in about 30 seconds," Bella said, confirming my theories about the fucktard.

"Well, 30 seconds was probably a long time for him," I said, smirking.

"I wouldn't know. I ended it the next day before breakfast."

"So he got a morning conversation, at least? I guess you learned a thing or two in the years since I saw you last." Shit, why did I say that? I didn't mean it the way it sounded; okay, maybe I did, but still, you don't just blurt that shit out to a girl. I noticed we were at the stairs to her building. She looked stricken for a second, but the look quickly morphed into something I couldn't read.

"I guess you should come up with me," Bella said quietly.

"Bella, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like an ass—"

"No, you're right. I did a shitty thing to you. I'm sorry. But this," and she stepped closer to me, so I could see the pulse beating in her neck, smell her perfume, and generally just feel her, "I don't know what it is, and I don't understand it, but I do know it didn't go away just because I ran away from it. We have some kind of weird connection and I don't want to fight it," she whispered the last part, looped her arms around my neck, and stood on tiptoe trying to kiss me.

Sure as fuck was I not going to let this chance go and I met her mouth with mine. I grabbed her ass through her dress and lifted her up until she was able to wrap her legs around my waist. I kissed her hungrily, pouring every pent up emotion—anger, frustration, loneliness—that had plagued me since she left me in that shitastic apartment when we were 18. Her fingers wove their way into my hair, our tongues sliding against the other's in an erotic tango that shouldn't be happening in the street.

Fuck we were in the street.

"Bella," I mumbled as I began to kiss her in a spot just behind her left ear, "are we going up or do you want to do this on the street?"

She shivered again and made a small sound, not quite a moan, not quite a whimper, in her throat. "Inside. I want to go inside," she whispered, looking at me with eyes turning black with desire.

I put her back on her feet, put my hand back inside her dress where it seemed to be taking up residence, and didn't let her get more than two inches away from me as we went up to her apartment. She unlocked the door, I followed her inside and turned around to lock it back. When I turned around again, she was pulling pins out of her hair, allowing it to cascade down her bare back. She looked up at me with heavily lidded eyes, licked her lips, and I knew something for sure—I was completely and utterly in lust with this woman.


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, thanks to everyone who has alerted and reviewed the last chapter, i.e. _LivelyLaura _and particularly the ever faithful _xxkissesandcuddlesxx_. **

**I don't own anything, except a love of New Orleans. No copywrite infringement intended.**

**I get the feeling you all will like this chapter!**

BPOV

I am not an impetuous person. I had looked at practically every school in the Northeast when I decided that Dartmouth was the one for me. Grad schools were the same way—I knew I wanted to leave the snowy winters of New England behind but didn't want to return to the West Coast. Tulane and its surrounding city were recovering from Hurricane Katrina and I felt like moving there, lock, stock, and barrel, and planning to call it home for at least two years, was my own small effort at helping rebuild one of the best cities in the United States. Tonight, I threw all my 26 years of cautious living to the wind and just went with it.

I wanted Edward the moment I laid eyes on him again and his set tonight was like one long moment of déjà vu. Having to relive one of my more shameful attempts at dating in this town (which I still blame Jacob for) with the presence of one Mike Newton almost killed the killer buzz I had going from Edward's set. That is, until he strolled up behind Mike, looking like, to borrow a phrase from Alice, sex on a stick, his green eyes stormy. I knew he would know what I doing, trying to trick Mike and get him to scram; what I didn't know was that his musician fingers would slide into my backless dress, making my buzz become a sizzle, and push my unstable feelings for him over the edge.

I apologized for my "loving and leaving" of him, hoping he wouldn't push as to why I did it. He didn't and I knew he was as mad for me as I was for him when I started a kiss that he immediately took over.

My brain was fuzzy and he was kissing me _right there_, when he reminded me we were practically dry humping in the middle of the French Quarter. I rushed upstairs, Edward close on my heels, his hand back in my damn dress, and I hoped he didn't notice how much my hands were shaking as I unlocked my door.

I pulled out the pins holding my hair up and gathered the courage to look at him, standing so nonchalantly in my tiny, crowded living room. His posture was predatory and, God help me, I wanted to be the prey. His hair was a complete mess, partly from my hands before, partly from his own, since he didn't seem to know what to do with them now that we were inside. I took a step towards him, which is all it took for him to close the distance between us and take my lips in a bruising kiss, his teeth pulling my bottom lip between his own.

Hands were everywhere: mine in his hair, his on my back, mine unbuttoning his shirt, his sliding the spaghetti straps down my shoulder. His lips trailed hot down my throat, his teeth nibbled my collarbone, his tongue licking my nipples before pulling them into his mouth.

I pulled his head back up to mine and I started into his eyes as I began to undo his belt and the button on his jeans. The normal moss green had darkened into almost black and the need I saw within them pulled on my heart.

"Bedroom?" Edward whispered, before I could finish with the pants.

"Over there," I said breathlessly and once again my feet were off the ground, my legs wrapped around his waist. I could feel how hard he was and rubbed myself against him like a cat.

"Jesus, woman," he groaned, attacking my neck with his lips.

I put both feet on the ground and returned to the task at hand: getting those pants off this man. As I was working on that, Edward slid the straps of my dress down and pushed it over my hips until I was standing naked in a puddle of white cotton.

"Fuck am I glad I didn't realize you had nothing on under that dress—I _would_ have taken you in the street," Edward said as I helped his jeans and boxers join the other discarded clothing.

His fingers trailed from my shoulder to the place between my legs that was aching for his touch. When they finally found what they were looking for, Edward hissed.

"Bella, you are so wet—shit," he felt my hands grab him and the jump he gave caused his hand to brush roughly against my clit.

"Edward, please," I moaned into his ear, not in the mood for games. It had been too long since I felt this way—years, in fact.

He slid a finger, then two inside me, twisting, thrusting, making my knees go weak. We fell back onto my bed, a tangle of lips, hands, and tongue.

"Bella…" Edward groaned as I touched his dick, alternating between ghost like caresses and firmer strokes.

"I can't wait," I told him and his head popped up to look into my eyes. He aligned himself with my entrance and with one quick trust buried himself deep within my all too willing body.

He froze, a look of intense concentration on his face, while I took a few seconds to adjust to his girth and length. The feeling of being stretched was pleasantly uncomfortable and I could feel small contractions as my muscles figured out what was happening.

"Oh, fuck Bella—it's so tight," Edward mumbled, and I'm not really sure he knew he was talking.

With his face buried in my shoulder, he began to thrust and I could feel the tension building in my abdomen. His hands were on my breasts, his mouth sucking hard on my nipples, and the push and pull of my body and his became more frenzied, more desperate. One hand snaked down to my swollen clit, his thumb glancing across it. My back arched and I made a sound of desperation—I saw a smile flit across his face and the hand between my legs began a more measured manipulation, taking me right to the edge of the precipice that I desperately wanted to fling myself off.

"Edward, I can't….please…" I begged, my body as tight as a bow string, my goal tantalizingly within reach.

"Yeah, baby, I'll take care of you," he whispered, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers playing me like a song.

I held on to Edward's shoulders tightly, my fingernails digging into his back, as I road through the sensations that he caused me to experience. My vision went a little blurry and I closed my eyes, every muscle in my body contracting, then releasing, a delicious snap of pleasure that had me crying out. I heard his quick inhale and felt the pulse of him inside me as he followed me over the cliff.

* * *

**So that's my first lemon. What do you think? Let me know and REVIEW. :-)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, I'll be honest: I hate this chapter. I started it and deleted it at least three times but never found a way to move on, so here is this. I may end up reworking it later, but as it stands I want to give everyone a new chapter and move the story somewhere. Work has also picked up, so I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'm hoping at least once a week.  
Thanks to my favorite add from _angeliclilgal _and for the review from _Becky66_. Last but certainly not least, I want to thank _Evesquill_ for recc-ing my story in her wonderful one called If. I found it and have fallen in love with it! It's not the normal "Edward left, what happened to Bella" story-it has Bella leaving when he warns her in the infamous lunchroom scene. Such great writing and I was SO excited when I saw the rec-I was reading the A/N and thought, "Wait, who stole my story title?" then realized it was MY story that got the shoutout.**

**Without further ado, here is The Morning After in EPOV.**

"So, what's the story, Morning Glory?" Alice asked me, practically jumping out from behind the pass-through partition that separated her kitchen and living areas.

"Jesus Christ, Alice! I haven't even shut the damn door," I grumbled, not amused to see my tiny twin standing in spiky pigtails and pajamas printed with beer mugs as I tried to sneak into her apartment in the early hours of Sunday morning, "What the hell are you doing up anyway? It's barely five o'clock in the morning."

"For your information, some of us function well on very little sleep. Some of us also get sick of Jasper Whitlock's snoring and feel her time is better served paying invoices for Midnight Sun rather than tossing, turning, and planning her husband's death by pillow. Here," Alice handed me a large cup of coffee with chicory, "Spill."

"We went to her place. Talked. Cleared some stuff up. Here I am."

"Oh, no, no sir, that is not acceptable. You have in no way, shape or form explained why you are standing here, trying to evade me before dawn rather than in bed with Bella. You may as well tell me now because I will pick up the phone and call Bella right now and demand answers and get the dirt—you know I will." Scary thing is, she would, she wouldn't care who she woke up.

"Alice, lay off. Seriously. I have nothing to say on the subject of Bella and you better leave her alone—I don't want you harassing her."

Alice stuck her tongue out at me and turned on her heel, heading back into the alcove she had carved out as a makeshift office, "Fine, but if you won't talk about it, I'm not talking about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Had Bella talked about me to Alice before? Did she know something I didn't?

"Exactly that. No go-betweening, no handholding, no 'Hey, Al, I fucked up, what do I do now?' advice giving."

"Real mature. Hey, you think I fucked this up?"

Alice shook her head at me, the tiny pigtails on top of her head shaking furiously, "Nope, nope—that falls under the 'Talking About It' category and I'm not biting. I have inventory to do," and with that she put purple earbuds in her ears. I don't think I've been as thoroughly dismissed since I lived with my mother. One day I'm going to tell Alice exactly how much she's turning into Esme—but not today, she's already mad at me.

I left Alice to her bills and her sulking—I had some brooding of my own to do.

Why am I here under the wrathful auspices of a dark pixie instead of wrapped in my woman's arms?

Alice was right; I fucked things up.

After having had the best sex of my life, hands down, we were laying there, tangled in each other, but my brain wouldn't shut off. I was replaying the last time we had been in this situation and the only thing I could keep thinking was that now it was time to leave—she had left once, I should leave once and we would be even.

"I guess I should get going," my mouth said before my brain could stop it. I didn't want to get going, I wanted to stay here all night and all day tomorrow, in bed, with Bella. What the hell was wrong with me?

She didn't look at me as she rolled off the bed and grabbed a blue silk robe.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you around. I'm going to get a shower—please lock the door on your way out," Bella said, never turning around to look at me, and disappeared into what I assumed was the bathroom. The door shut and I heard the lock click.

I laid down heavily upon the bed I had taken as my own until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do about living here. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh, that's right, I wasn't thinking, or I was thinking too much, or maybe I should just bash my head against the exposed brick wall the bed's headboard was against because that was apparently as useful as my brain was to me.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was being awakened by the buzzer that signaled someone was at Alice's front door. I looked at the clock on my bedside table—11 o'clock. Shit. I was supposed to go to brunch with the family today and Alice, in her mood, didn't wake me up.

"Edward Cullen—you better be up, dressed, and ready to go eat at a respectable restaurant in less than 15 minutes!" Esme's voice filtered through the door to the room and I was distinctly reminded of high school.

I stuck my head out of the door, "Mum, are you sure I have to go? I don't want to make everyone late just because I overslept." I didn't feel like explaining to my mother that the reason I was late was because I was a supreme douchebag.

"No can do, mi hermano. Rose and Em are meeting us there and she would have a shit fit if you didn't show—and if you showed looking like that," Jasper said, passing by the door wearing grey slacks, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and (in an unprecedented departure from his battered cowboy boots) black dress shoes. I guess even growing up with Rosalie Hale didn't make one immune from her wrath.

"Fine, but it might take longer than fifteen minutes."

"You've wasted at least three by standing there arguing," Alice pointed out unhelpfully, her hair smoothed into its classic bob, wearing a magenta sleeveless silk dress.

Seventeen minutes later (Alice timed it) I was ready and we were on our way to Brennan's to brunch.

We decided to walk, not only because parking in the Quarter is ridiculous on a good day, but because it was mysteriously not as humid as usual outside; Alice said that meant luck was coming, but I personally thought the luck was that it wasn't as humid.

On the way, Jasper wanted to take my dad by St. Louis Cathedral—Carlisle has an affinity for church architecture and according to Jazz parts of the structure dated from the 1700s. By the time we got to Jackson Square, mass was letting out, and I saw the one person I didn't want to see, at least until I knew what to say.

"Bella! Bella Swan!" Of course Alice would see her, and of course she would disregard my feelings on the subject and call her over.

Bella looked beautiful. She was wearing a shamrock green dress with little sleeves and a wide scooped neck that had a navy belt around her waist. Her shoes—Jesus—were navy too, but they were those kind that have an open toe and a closed section on the heel. Shit, Alice would know what they are called. All I know was that they made her legs look damn fine and I couldn't stop picturing her wearing them while I had sex with her. See, this is why I'm fucked up: hours after I torpedo anything I could ever have with the woman I'm stilling imaging fucking her!

She saw Alice and Jasper and smiled widely, which dimmed a bit when she noticed me skulking behind them. Alice waved her over to us and I watched as she made her way through the crowd. She was almost right beside us when the heel of her shoe caught in one of the cracks in the pavement. I did the only thing I could think of: reach out and grab her before she fell.

"Wow, Edward, good reflexes!" Carlisle said. Bella's front was pressed against mine, breast to hip, but she wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Thanks," she whispered, regaining her balance and smoothing down the front of her dress.

"We were just on our way to Brennan's for brunch; would you like to join us?" Esme asked, smiling at Bella and ignoring the stormy look on my face.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose on a family activity—" Bella said, still looking anywhere but at me.

"Nonsense, there would be no imposition. And besides, once Alice decides to adopt you, you may as well accept it—you're a Cullen now!" Seriously, Dad, you were the one who caught me as I entered the world (don't ask, Esme is very adamant about her birthing beliefs), I carry part of your DNA for Christ's sake, can't you tell I'm slowly dying here?

So that was how I ended up sitting with Bella on one side, who had not spoken a word to me, and Rosalie, who was more than slightly put out that we hadn't warned her about the last minute addition to our table and made her wait for five more minutes while the staff set a place for Bella.


	13. Chapter 13

**My job has been insane lately-I worked 45 hours last week and I had Monday off-so that's my excuse for the lack of postings. I also have been having insane writer's block, which I attempted to cure by writing a one-shot called Study Time which has been getting pretty good reviews, so I would be flattered for you all to check it out. I labeled it Edward/Bella, but it could really be any characters the reader would like to put in it. **

**Thank you all who have added Swan Song as a favorite, most recently it has been _edwardbella92_ and _GA Lacrosse_. If I missed your add I apologize, my two year old likes to push the buttons on the computer and sometimes deletes my emails. Thanks also for the wonderful reviews from _becky66_, _Evesquill,_ and _The-Devil's-Avenging-Angels._ I always love feedback, even if it isn't glowing, because I think that makes one a better writer, no?**

**Finally, I only own my original material, so please don't take it. :-)**

BPOV

So here I am, seated between the most beautiful woman in the world and the guy who is apparently the reason my heart beats at a very fancy brunch with one of the most talented musical artists in the past fifty years. Just another normal day in Bella Swan's suddenly fucked up existence.

I knew I shouldn't have rushed out of church. I did it to primarily avoid Mrs. Cope, this batty old woman with something like seventeen cats and a single son with whom she's always trying to set me up. According to Jacob, Matthew Cope wouldn't be very interested in me anyway, as he performs under the stage name "Naughty Nanette" and his signature move is eating a whole banana in one bite. I would feel for the woman, living in the dark as she is, if she wasn't so freaking pushy. I'm honestly afraid that one day I'll get so irritated with her that I'll explode about Nanette/Matthew's abilities and she'll keel over and die.

"…so I told Chelsea that she could fly back to L.A. and check on the house. I'm leaving here and flying straight to St. Tropez for the shoot," Rosalie was saying. Am I a bad person for actually being glad that she was only eating fruit and scrambled egg whites while I was having the most wonderful Eggs Benedict in the universe?

"Bella, when are you going to want to sing at the bar this week? I know that Irina has you pretty much tied to that shop, but I'm not letting my canary fly the coop!" Alice said, taking a sip of her coffee—I really hoped it was decaf.

"Um, I'm not sure. I mean, now that Edward's here do you really need me?" See, I could mention his name without picking up various pieces of the table setting and throwing it at him while demanding an explanation for his behavior that morning. I'm civilized.

"Edward, Schmedward—we need you girly, you led a certain feminine air to the place that I don't want to go away. It seems like every place is either geared towards men or is some trashy dance club. I've noticed the number of older, single women coming around increase on the nights we announce you." For someone so flighty looking, Alice never missed a thing.

"When you put it that way—let me check my work schedule this week and I'll let you know." I knew to just go ahead and give in; she wouldn't let me off the hook anyway.

There was one of those awkward pauses in conversation where you can hear the silverware on the plates. Rose suddenly turned to me when I had been grateful for her ignoring me all morning.

"Well, Isabella; tell me something about yourself. You're obviously not from the New Orleans area. What was growing up Isabella Swan like?" Apparently, in the grand tradition of nice, funny drunks, Sober Rosalie was a heinous bitch.

"Rose really—" Edward hissed to her and Rose pretended not to hear.

"I want to know more about you. I know everything about these people," she waved her meticulously manicured hand around, gesturing to the rest of the table, "and I want to know what makes you tick. I meet so many people that I like to think of myself as somewhat of an anthropologist." She flashed me a smile which I realized was supposed to be charming but I wasn't fooled—I actually looked more like she an animal bearing her teeth.

"I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, in a tiny town in Washington state. My dad was chief of police so I didn't ever really get away with anything. I left three days after I graduated high school and haven't been back since," I took a bite of my food, praying that she wouldn't ask anything else.

"What about your mother? Surely you have one." I wonder if I punched her she would even bleed blood—probably not, just ice water.

"She was there too. Why? What about your mother?"

"My mother is a demon residing in the skin of Miss Texas 1974. But this isn't about me—I want to know about _you_."

"Rosalie Whitlock McCarty, seriously—stop being a bitch," Jasper told his sister, eyeing me with some apprehension.

"My mother is dead."

"How did she die?"

"Rose!" Emmett exclaimed, with what I could only imagine as a horrified look on his face. I didn't know because Rosalie and I had not broken eye contact the entire time.

"I would rather not discuss it," I said.

"And you don't have to—waiter may I have a bloody mary?" Esme said, flagging down the nearest person dressed as if he worked there. He didn't.

"No, it's fine. I've ruined Rosalie's precious brunch because her in-laws ran into me on the way here and were nice enough to invite me along. And since she is employed for her looks and not her brains, she can't eat any of the delicious food the rest of us have, so she's decided that she wants to grill me, chew me up, and spit me out, since her fabulous body obviously can't handle the calories," I said this to the stunned look on Carlisle and Esme's faces and the growing smile on Alice's, which she tried to hide behind her mimosa glass before I turned back to Rose.  
"If you really want to know I'll tell you. It's not exactly polite conversation, but inquiring minds want to know, right? The town I grew up in is Forks, Washington—you've probably heard of it, because in 2002 there was a rather famous incident that occurred there. It probably wouldn't have gotten much press except that nothing was really going on in the news that week. My father and mother never really got along—she was outgoing and boisterous whereas he was quiet and content to spend most of his weekends off fishing, in hindsight I understand that it was probably to get away from my mother. My mom wanted to move to Seattle, or any big city really, for as long as I can remember, but my dad was happy where he was and with his life in Forks. I don't know why they didn't just get a divorce.  
When I was seventeen my mother stopped complaining about where we lived and just picked up and left—it was honestly the most peaceful time in my life, the six months she was gone. Then one day she came back, pregnant with some baseball player's baby, which, she informed my father, she didn't intend to keep, but she needed money for an abortion. My dad refused to give it to her—she had waited too long and at this point would have to travel to Kansas because that was the only place left in the country where she could obtain one for the number of weeks she was pregnant. Well, my mother went ballistic, screaming, throwing things, threatening to have the baby and leave it with my dad. He ignored her and actually laughed. I was in the living room, watching that a rerun of the Making the Video of Lady Marmalade, where Pink looks uncomfortable and Christina Aguilera has a 'fro, when I heard the gun shots.  
My dad never left his gun loaded at the house, but he had been on his way to work when my mom got in. She picked it up off the kitchen table, aimed at my dad and pulled the trigger. Next she came looking for me—I guess one homicide wasn't enough for her that day or maybe she just wanted to be thorough, I don't know. Our living room had always been dim and the sun had gone down since I settled myself in there, so when she fired, the bullets grazed my leg and right above my left ear. I pretended to be unconscious and was bleeding like crazy so she assumed I was dead.  
I listened while she made herself a ham sandwich, had some lemonade, then proceeded to pick the gun and shoot herself in the head. The bullets missed my dad's heart but one lodged in his spine. He died on the operating table. It was the first murder in the city of Forks in seventy five years and it happened to involve the chief of police—the irony of which wasn't lost on the media who picked up on the story.  
I lived with some friends of my father until I graduated, which is when I took the small pension my dad left and went to Dartmouth because he had been so excited that his daughter was Ivy League material. After graduating, I moved here to get my master's," I took a deep breath, "So, that's it—what makes Bella Swan tick, in a nutshell."

I turned to the rest of the table, ignoring Rosalie's shamed expression, "Now that I've officially ruined everyone's day, I think I'll be going. I'll call you later Alice," I said, taking everyone's stunned faces as a good time to make my exit. I opened my purse, threw two twenties on the table, and walked out of the restaurant with my head held high. I knew Edward was never going to want to see me again, especially now that he knew about the crazy, but I couldn't help wishing he would come after me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, everyone, long time no see! Just letting all my readers know that I've been dealing with some wicked writer's block with this story-I kinda got to where I wanted to go and then my GPS pooped out on me. Never fear, slowly but surely are things starting to trickle through the brain with ideas as to where to go. I reiterate slowly because this chapter is rather short and my apologies are massive for that. **

**Thanks to _Em Masen_, _becky 66_, _ecxe_, and _raidermom _(x5!) for reviewing and _jefh926_ and _raidermom_ for liking this so much they added it to their favorite lists. If I missed anyone I am sorry; I'm thankful for all of you too! Also thanks to the AA adds, the SA adds, and everyone who read and reviewed the oneshots I wrote while working through my block. This feels kinds like an Oscar acceptance speech, but seriously, I really am so flattered that anyone even bothers to read this!**

**Please, enjoy this EPOV for what it is and keep the faith; Swan Song is still being thought about, brainstormed about, and written!**

"Bella! Wait!"

Out of all the stunned faces sitting around the semi-private table, it was the hulking form of Emmett McCarty who got it together enough to chase Bella out of the restaurant and attempt to explain what just happened.

I turned to look at Rose, who appeared to be crying.

"I didn't…You know I would never…" Rose attempted to explain to her family but her attempt to stifle sobs kept cutting off her words. It was Jasper who quickly made his way around the table, helped Rosalie up and took her out the back entrance of the restaurant to calm down. Very few knew why she would react so strongly to Bella's story and six of those people were still sitting rather, in my father's parlance, gob smacked.

Emmett returned a few minutes later, long enough for Esme to request the check and pay.

"How is she?" Alice asked, grabbing Rose's purse.

"Bella? Pissed at Rose and embarrassed since she just kind of blurted everything out. How's Rose?"

"With Jasper. He told me they would grab a cab home. We can leave." Alice's response seemed to calm Emmett slightly—he knew Jasper could calm Rosalie down, since he had been dealing with her issues longer than anyone else.

But Bella, shit. What do you do with that?

"You do exactly what people do with Rose—treat her no differently unless she needs it!" My sister said four hours later when I asked her the very same question. I'm pretty sure she called me a dumbass under her breath too.

"What if she never wants to see me again?" I asked, staring at the floor, memorizing the grains in the wood. Alice was quiet and when I looked up at her she shook her head. Great, no answer from Alice—that certainly didn't make me feel better.

"Guys, I get the feeling we aren't hearing the last from Miss Isabella Swan," Jasper said from his perch in from of the computer.

"Why so sure?" I asked, a bit sourly.

"Her and Emmett's picture is all over the Internet."

"What?" Alice exclaimed, her voice screeching into the trill that never failed to make my eardrums want to bleed.

Both of us rushed over and Alice pushed Jasper out of the way of the screen.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Alice whispered, echoing my sentiments exactly.

On the screen were pictures taken that morning outside the restaurant. In a progression of shots that indicated the work of a true professional, one Emmett McCarty was shown running after Bella, who was looking, justifiably, distraught, catching up with her with his hand on her shoulder, she turning to talk to him, both gesturing wildly, then Emmett speaking to her with an earnest look on his face, Bella looking at the ground while chewing on that bottom lip, and ending with him wrapping her in a bear hug. The shots were obscured in some places by foliage, which is probably why Emmett didn't see the photographer. The headline over the picture was "Manly McCarty sets his sights on a Stunning Swan; Rosalie Who?"

"Those aren't the worst of it. Click on the link," Jasper said from the kitchen, chowing down on Oreos.

Alice clicked the link and was greeted with slightly fuzzy camera phone photos of Jasper hustling a crying Rose out of the restaurant, into the back alley, and into a cab.

"'Is this just one more celebrity marriage on the rocks? While husband, action star Emmett McCarty, chases down another woman, who sources have named as Isabella Swan, in the streets of romantic New Orleans, Louisiana, Victoria's Secret model Rosalie Hale is consoled by her brother and ushered quickly into a getaway car. The Hale-McCartys were in the Big Easy celebrating the opening of a bar owned by her brother. Perhaps the rumors of Rosalie's notorious demands have finally driven her hunky husband into another's arms.' They didn't even name you Jasper! Or the bar! What the hell?" Alice shrieked in outrage.

"Uh, Alice, baby, perspective, please?" Jasper said.

"I know, I know, but it's already out there; the least that this mess could do would be to help out the bar! But wow, this sucks for Rose," Alice said, beginning to chew on one of the longer strands of hair framing her face, a habit she'd had since childhood and always reverted to when stressed.

"Rose? What about Bella? She doesn't have any experience with this kind of publicity—and now her entire name is splashed everywhere, along with where she lives!" I pointed out, outraged that my sister, supposedly Bella's friend, thought nothing of her.

"Oh yeah! Hey, we've got tons of publicity about her singing at the bar all over town—maybe the bar will get something out of this!" Alice said, her eyes lighting up!

I was looking at her in horror when Jasper said philosophically, "My Alice is more of a glass half full kinda girl."

**Now for some stories I've been reading during my hiatus:**

**blossom by: _ms-ambrosia  
_Such a unique characterization of James and just a wonderful little tale of an older Edward and a younger Bella who has adult worries.**

**Little Fish, Big Fish** **by: _Michelle M. Marie_**  
**Co-written with _Paige Parkker_, this is a version of high school Bella and Edward with quite a bit of angst. Michelle just had a baby so it may not update too soon, but it's absolutely worth the read!**

**First & Ten by: _Nolebucgrl  
_A HOT story involving NFL playing Edward and Bella, the aspiring sportwriter. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Been a loooooooooong time, I know. And I have to admit that I've forgotten all the favs, alerts, and reviews since last time ::ducks rotten fruit::-I'm so sorry!**

**Please accept this as my apology and know that a EPOV is soon in coming. Writer's Block and RL sucks sometimes, but we all have to get through it, right? Please review so I know I still have someone reading!**

BPOV

"Is it true Isabella?"

"How long have you been sleeping with Emmett McCarty, Isabella?"

"How does it feel to break up a marriage?"

"Are you pregnant? Isabella, is it Emmett's baby?"

"Isabella!"

"Isabella!"

This was my life now. Since the whole world figured out who the Mystery Woman with Emmett was I had been hounded non-stop. Irina closed the shop for the foreseeable future—at first there were more customers but they were only there to gawk. It was obvious because they never bought anything and one actually broke some very expensive porcelain then refused to pay for it. I was unemployed and could barely leave my apartment, which was getting smaller and smaller everyday.

I was attempting to go to Wal Greens and stock up on some essentials—you know, Diet Coke, toilet paper, Cheetos—when this one group of photographers just would not leave me alone. Apparently Brad and Angelina were filming some movie in New Orleans, which attracted them like flies to crap and glut was making my life miserable.

I was walking along, head down attempting to hide behind my hair, when a small red sport car pulled up beside me.

"Get in."

It was Edward. I hadn't seen him since the shit hit the fan a few days before. I did know that disappearing inside a car would at least help me avoid the photogs on foot. I climbed in and barely had a chance to slam the door before he sped off as fast as the narrow streets of the Quarter would allow. Things were silent for a few minutes.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I have a gig in Jackson, Mississippi. Thought you might want to get away from the shit for a while," Edward answered, glancing in his rearview mirror and switching lanes.

"But—I don't have any clothes or any of my things!" I said, feeling panicked.

"I realize I said Mississippi, but trust me, they have stores there. You can buy whatever you need—I'm paying. My family got you barricaded in your house, the least we could do is get you out of it," he said, smiling slightly at me, "Unless you don't want to go. Say the word and I'll turn Vicki around."

"Vicki?"

"The car. She don't look like much, but she's my temperamental bitch and I have to say I love her," he said running his hand along the dash.

"You drove this heap all the way from Nashville?" I replied, settling in for the ride. I mean, it wasn't like I had anything really holding me in New Orleans; no job and the only people who really wanted to see me were annoying the hell out of me. Jackson sounded…interesting.

He looked at me with mock hurt, "Don't listen to her Vicki-she's just jealous of your beautiful body."

"The one with all the dents and scratched paint?"

"It's called 'Character.' Plus, that meathead friend of your's (Jacob was it?) would drool if he knew what she looked like."

I had to laugh. "I'm pretty sure your Vicki's body would be the only 'she' to ever interest Jake in anything other than her shoes."

Edward had a secret kind of grin in place that made him look so much like the 19 year old I remembered that it made me a little uncomfortable.

"Tunes?" I asked, pulling my iPod out of my purse.

"Uh, Vicki isn't exactly in the 21st century; but she does have this one awesome feature," and with that, he reached over, opened the glove compartment, and out spilled more 8-Track tapes I had ever seen in one place.

I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"It's called '_Character,_'" he emphasized.

"Jeez, this is going to be a long ride," I grumbled and tried to hide a grin at the same time.


	16. Chapter 16

**So long since an update, I know. The block has sucked, but I hope I'm getting back to where I can crank some stuff out.**

**This chapter is really short but it's all I could get out.**

**Thanks to _jenny_ for forcing me to get something going.**

She sleeps with her head propped on the window, the glass slightly fogging where her breath hits it. There are dark circles under her eyes and her fingernails have been bitten short. A nasty but fading bruise is on her left knee, highlighting a shallow scrape. I, along with most of America, know this is from her tripping over the uneven sidewalk as she attempted to avoid being chased by photographers; unfortunately the embarrassing pictures of her flying through the air were on most every gossip website within the hour. I wonder if there are still scrapes on her palms.

I get the policy of not commenting on rumors, I do, but seeing this person who is completely uninitiated in our world get thrown to the wolves is painful. They hound her day and night and she can't even leave her own apartment without having a fucking camera shoved in her face or up her skirt. The most ambitious gossip rag reporters have dug up her sordid family history and had crackpot "psychiatrists" comment on what these events could have done to a teenager's fragile psyche and how it bred her homewrecking ways.

The truth is, I barely know her. As connected I feel to her, she is a complete mystery to me. The hazy memory I have of her is nothing compared to this living breathing being beside me. I know I want to know more, I _have_ to know more.

Beginning with that hummingbird tattoo on her inner thigh.


End file.
